Silence, Sound
by Dragonlord Stephi
Summary: Thursday didn't want to draft Arthur, but now he's here, in the Star Fort. Arthur must survive military training, Thursday's rages, and the Piper's war while Leaf battles the Skinless Boy back on good ol' Earth. A rewrite of events from the fourth book on. Loosely inspired by Taywen's ASCENDANT.
1. Chapter 1- Recruit Penhaligon

_Inspired by Taywen's _Ascendant, _this is a re-write of events from the fourth book on, which will later implement some things I felt Nix should have in his original series. NOTE: Unlike _Ascendant, _this is NOT a Thursday/Arthur fic. Some mild Arthur/Suzy, and Marshall Dawn/Thursday._

CHAPTER ONE- RECRUIT PENHALIGON

"You're not serious."

The sergeant gulped and tried not to squirm under Sir Thursday's venom-laced gaze, already regretting requesting to see the Day directly instead of telling his more mild-tempered Noon, Dusk, or even the- so he heard- friendly Dawn. "I'm afraid not, sir. I'm, um, perfectly serious," he said, voice so soft he could barely hear it, but Thursday must have had much better hearing than the average Denizen.

He uttered a low, feral growl, and the sergeant ducked as Thursday punched a vase. "THAT SLIPPERY, VILE, NEAR-CREATION SPAWN OF A NOTHING-ROTTED NITHLING! SCREW THAT WOMAN AND HER RIDICULOUS NAGGING, INTERFERENCE, AND MEDDLING! IF I EVER SEE HER FOR THE NEXT MILLION YEARS, I'LL SLOWLY DIP HER INTO A POOL OF NOTHING AND THEN SPIT ON HER GRAVE!"

There was a lull as he finished. Thursday panted, and then scowled as he heard running feet immediately change direction and run away. "What was that?" he hissed.

"Marshall Dawn was about to deliver her report but heard your… so she decided she'd rather not be dipped into a pool of Nothing, sir," Marshall Noon quipped, stepping in. "Shall I deliver the report in her stead?"

Sir Thursday glared at him. "Why in the entire House would she think I was talking about her? I was referring to that Superior _Snake _and this… this… this nightmare!" He waved a paper in his face. "I have to go about drafting Lord Arthur! I don't want him here! I'm busy with the Campaign as it is!"

"Is this politics, sir?" Marshall Noon ventured.

"No, you pussycat, it's all a scheme to get us together for tea," Thursday snapped. "YES, IT'S POLITICS! Use your brain, you half-wit! I hate politics," he spat, "but that Upper House witch loves it. If I ever get my hands on that sorry excuse for a Denizen…"

"Sir, perhaps we'd best focus on what to do with Lord Arthur," Marshall Noon suggested.

Thursday sighed. "Yes, you're right. Tell the recruiting officer to skip any of the training forts and bring him here right away. I suppose I'll put him on an accelerated officer's track and keep him in the Star Fort."

"Um, sir, why?" Noon asked. "Wouldn't it suit us to ship him off to the Boundary Fort in a year after he's finished his training?"

"That's probably what she wants," Thursday scowled.

"What if it isn't? You don't know that," he argued.

"Do not degrade me by implying I do not know what I'm talking about!" Thursday seethed, his short fuse lit. "Keeping him here will help us find out what she does want. Someone go fetch Marshall Dawn and bring Lord Arthur here as quickly as possible. You're all dismissed!"

After the sergeant and Marshall Noon filed out, Thursday sat down in his plush leather chair and gazed out of the window, watching the soldiers scuttle around the Star Fort. Here, in his study, it was almost easy to forget what his lovely, magnificent maze was truly for- war. Every inch had seen blood at least once, as the land had been lost, bought, but always, always, fought for.

Thursday lived for war. It wasn't that he enjoyed the thrill of battle, that he was a creature of bloodlust. It was simply an instinct, everything an ongoing battlefield to him, since the Architect had made him solely for that purpose. This affected his temperament, he supposed, making him extremely volatile and violent, since any difference of opinion was seen as insubordination. He did not seek out violence, but he did not flee from it either. He was a soldier by nature.

A knock on the door brought his attention back to the interior of the fort. "Enter," he barked.

Marshall Dawn tentatively poked her head in. "Sir, I apologize for fleeing and giving Marshall Noon the report."

He waved his hand. Now that the anger had died down, he was a bit numb. "No, no, I understand. Put Arthur Penhaligon as a Piper's Child in the Army Records; he's not a Denizen, so we can't really put him anywhere else. About that report… I'd like to hear it."

"Of course, sir." She seemed visibly relieved. Thursday frowned. What had she been expecting? "If I may, sir… about the campaign… good luck."

Thursday smiled grimly. "I may need it."

"I'm not joining the Army!" Arthur protested, a bit weakly.

"Lord Arthur, must we really continue this fruitless discussion?" Dame Primus tapped her finger on the table, delicate Denizen features accentuating the look of mild impatience and annoyance semi-permanently plastered there, now brought to the forefront. "You have no choice! Besides, you will be relatively safe. This is actually an asset to us."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn when she said 'to us.' By that, she meant as an asset to her, the assembled parts of the Will, not Arthur and her together. He couldn't believe she was putting her own ideas first!  
No, scratch that- she did it all the time. It just irked him she had to be doing it now, when he was about to disappear for a whole century into the military! Even more irritating, no one but Suzy was backing him up, and _she _was under a table trying to stab Dame Primus in the foot with a variety of sewing and darning needles- not exactly helpful.

"No! I might die as a mortal in the Army!"

"Then be a Denizen," Dame Primus shrugged.

"I don't want to become seven feet tall!" Arthur protested.

"Don't forget stunningly handsome," Suzy added, driving the needle home. She yelped as it melted, burning her fingers.

"Lord Arthur, I really should let the recruiting officer in now," Sneezer said.

"No," he exclaimed, "because I'm not going!"

"Just a moment, Sneezer," Dame Primus sighed. "Lord Arthur, repeat after me. 'I, Lord Arthur,'…"

Arthur mechanically repeated the words, barely thinking about them or the Third Key as it flew from his hand to Dame Primus'. She inclined her chin a quarter of an inch in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lord Arthur."

"This way, sir," Arthur heard Sneezer say, and a moment later, he saw the black-clad butler lead a smartly-dressed recruit officer into the room.

"Hello. I'm Lieutenant Crosshaw, here for a recruit Lord Arthur Penhaligon."

"That's me," Arthur found himself saying, and he stood, automatically taking the draft notice. He shivered as it swarmed over his clothing and transformed them into a recruit's uniform. He didn't like the feeling of it crawling all over him, and was relieved when it was over.

"I'll take care of affairs in your absence and stead, Lord Arthur," Dame Primus said in what was probably meant to sound reassuring but ended up being rather condescending.

"Wait- I'm coming too!" Suzy exclaimed, dashing out from under the table. "I'm a reservist, so-"

"You're ineligible," the officer shrugged. "Calling up reservists is under the jurisdiction of the Upper House, I'm afraid." He added, "Sorry."

Suzy scowled, but Dame Primus smiled softly. It struck Arthur she probably was quite glad he was out of the way for a century. "Earn yourself glory, Arthur, as it may prove useful, but please don't do anything too rash." She gave a little wave.

Ten minutes later, Arthur found himself in the elevator with Crosshaw, heading towards a future he knew he would not like and might not even survive.

They were met by a medium-height female Denizen as they stepped off the elevator. Crosshaw's arm snapped into an instant salute, arm whipping up, the second he saw her in a speed Arthur didn't even know was possible. The woman returned the salute and turned her attention to Arthur. "Recruit Penhaligon?"

"Yes, sir." He saluted and stood at attention, suddenly nervous.

"At ease, recruit," she said with a smile.

Arthur blinked. Erazmas had mentioned the difference between 'Stand easy' and 'stand at ease,' but he couldn't remember which was which, and he didn't want to risk it. He just stood there, unmoving and feeling stupid, until the woman demonstrated. "Like this."

"Thank you, sir," Arthur said as he copied her position.

"No problem, recruit. Officer Crosshaw, dismissed. I know you have other duties to tend to."

"Yes, sir." He saluted once more and then dashed down the hall.

The woman watched him for a second, then turned back to Arthur, seeming slightly amused. "Hello, Recruit Penhaligon. I am Marshall Dawn. As of now, I'm officially in charge of your training. I have many duties to tend to within the Maze, including overseeing Piper's Children, which was why Sir Thursday preferred I be over you instead of Noon or Dusk- I have more experience with, at least, near-mortals. I won't be with you at all times, but I'll check in occasionally, and have taken the liberty of, with Sir Thursday's permission, hand-picking those who shall be with you."

"Um, where is Sir Thursday?" Arthur asked nervously.

"He is busy with the campaign of late, so I hope you'll excuse his absence. He did plan to get you himself, but Noon, Dusk and I managed to… dissuade him of the idea."

Arthur nodded. He had a feeling that meant they had done him a huge favor. "Um, thank you, sir. Where am I?"

"The Star Fort of the Citadel in the Great Maze." Marshall Dawn beckoned, and Arthur followed her down the hallway, past doors and intersections, for several minutes before they reached a dimly-lit cluster of doors. "Marshalls Noon and Dusk bunk here," she said, pointing. Indicating the next, she added, "That one's yours. The one to its right is mine, and Sir Thursday's is the last two in the row."

"Why does he have two?" Arthur asked, relieved there was at least one Denizen between him and Sir Thursday at night. He hoped Dawn was not a heavy sleeper- if she even slept at all, he thought. Perhaps Army Denizens required even less sleep than most.

Dawn shrugged. "He just… does. Go on into yours, recruit, and I'll fetch you in about an hour for dinner. Training won't start officially until tomorrow, so I recommend you rest up while you can." She glanced at her watch and scowled. "Oh, I'm late… he won't like that. See you in a bit, recruit." She saluted, winked, and then pivoted and strode away, Arthur watching her go. He instinctively warmed up to her. Unlike Monday's Dawn, who looked like she was always acting on her best behavior around him simply because he was her superior, or Wednesday's, who was only slightly less scary and fierce than Dame Primus (though far nicer), Marshall Dawn seemed more mild-mannered and gave off a sense of warm clouds and soft sunrises. All the Dawns he'd seen somehow reminded him of mornings, though Marshall Dawn seemed by far the gentlest.

Arthur entered the room, wondering if it was strange he had his own room. Most recruits probably didn't, he mused, and Dawn probably only had her own room since it wouldn't make sense to bunk a female Denizen with two males. He doubted Sir Thursday would share his room with anyone, based on what he'd seen of superior Denizens.

The room was very Spartan, having only a bed and a desk. A rack of weapons and armor hung on the wall, and a book, _The Recruit's Companion, _lay on the sole chair. Arthur picked up the book, sat in the chair, and cracked it open. Judging by the feel of it and the leather bindings, it was fairly new. He tried reading it, but it was extremely dull, so he just perused the pictures instead. There were many illustrations of soldiers eating, soldiers fighting, soldiers laughing, soldiers talking, soldiers sleeping… Eventually, that got boring too, so he decided to try and find names for the armor on the wall. He was in the midst of this activity when there was a light rap on the door.

"Recruit? Can I come in?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur replied, snapping into salute as Marshall Dawn opened the door.

She laughed. "Dinner's ready," she said. "You'll be sitting opposite Sir Thursday."

Arthur frowned. "I'll be having dinner with Sir Thursday?"

"Every day. He requested it, for some reason." She saw his expression and smiled. "He won't hurt you, recruit, so long as you don't give him a reason. Now, come on- we don't want to keep him waiting- that tends to irritate him a bit." He recalled she had scowled when she'd noticed she was late, and wondered just how irritated Thursday would get.

Arthur nodded and smiled, but his grin faltered when he saw something.

Marshall Dawn had a cut beneath her eye, and he was certain that wasn't there before.


	2. Chapter 2- Marshall Dawn

_A/N: After this, I'll take a brief break from this story to upload the next chapter of 'A Mortal Pain' and 'Morrow Days vs. The World.' I also have a holiday short starring Pravuil and his Most Venerable Mistress planned..._

_After that, it's full steam ahead with this rewrite!_

CHAPTER TWO- MARSHALL DAWN

"You're late."

Sir Thursday's voice was sharp and cutting, like a sword.

"Yes, sir. I apologize," Marshall Dawn said sheepishly, and gestured to a chair. "Take a seat, recruit."

Arthur sat.

Dawn sat next to Thursday, on his right, looking a bit uncomfortable. Noon, on his left, seemed similarly disposed. Dusk, next to Arthur, was the only one of the three who was relaxed.

_Probably because he could use Noon or me as shields if it comes to it, _Arthur thought.

"Hello, recruit," Thursday greeted, though not kindly. "You better like chicken."

"Actually, I-"

"Shut up! That was not asking for a response!" Thursday knocked on the table to accentuate his point. Noon nearly jumped, startled, and Dawn winced.

"Sorry, sir," Arthur amended.

"You better be." Thursday took a bite of his chicken and chewed angrily. Arthur was surprised he wasn't tearing into it viciously. He seemed to calm down by the time he swallowed, however, and sighed. "Recruit, I'm ordering you now- do not try to take my Key or free the Will. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Wine?" Thursday waved to a glass of dark-red liquid in front of the boy.

"I'm, um, underage, so I don't-"

"I do not allow alcohol in the Great Maze," Sir Thursday said coldly, "or any other type of stimulant for that matter. It wouldn't do to have soldiers in a stupor when the enemy advanced."

"Oh." Arthur took a sip. It was sweet, the taste foreign, though it dimly reminded him of strawberries and raspberries. "It's good."

Thursday nodded.

White-clad Denizens filed in, whisked away their half-eaten plates, and placed a bowl of ice cream in front of them. He noticed Sir Thursday had the largest portion, but had the sense not to comment on it. Arthur tried a bit of it, tasting it on the tip of his tongue. It was strangely warm in his mouth, though when he poked the ice cream still in the bowl, it was quite cold. He didn't bother wondering about it and simply wrote it off as yet another marvel of the House.

Thursday leaned back and sighed, eyes closed, the rage drained from his face. "Dawn."

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't want to go back."

"Go back where, sir?" she asked.

Thursday did not reply.

"Rise and shine, recruit!"

Arthur groaned as Marshall Dawn thrust open the door. "Come on, you have to report to Corporal Gunsworth in fifteen minutes!"

"What for?" he moaned, climbing out of bed. He'd been so nervous after hearing something suspiciously like glass break in Thursday's room that he had slept fitfully the entire night. His window revealed it was still dark out, and he didn't appreciate being woken with having had so little sleep.

"Training. What else?" Dawn grinned at his drowsiness, and noticed _The Recruit's Companion _lying open on his desk. "Were you studying?"

"A bit," Arthur admitted, "but I gave up. It's a bit difficult to wrap my head around."

"You have a hundred years to learn."

Arthur scowled. "I know."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Grumpy Pants! Hurry up! You don't want to get off on the wrong foot with Corp. Gunsworth!"

Arthur nodded, slightly irritated by Dawn's perkiness. Most superior Denizens were rather rude, but she was pretty friendly. Too energetic, perhaps, but friendly.

"You haven't shaved," Dawn said when Arthur emerged from the Marshalls' private washroom five minutes later.

"But my skin's smooth!" he protested. "I'm TWELVE. I won't have to shave for years!"

"Sorry. Regulations. Even I have to shave." She stuck her tongue out at the thought. "Waste of time, really, but Sir Thursday change it unless the Upper House gives the order, and they have better things to do than go over a rule about shaving." She gently pushed him back towards the washroom's weirdway. "In you go, and hurry up! You're going to be late."

Arthur, grumbling, went back into the weirdway. He hated how off-balance he felt in them as the inky black whatever-it-was he walked on bent and shifted underfoot at the slightest pressure. This time, Marshall Noon was in front of one of the three sinks, soaking his red hair by holding it under the spout. Arthur didn't know how he'd gotten there, because he wasn't there before and the boy would have seen him if the marshall had gone past him through the entrance to the weirdway. Maybe there were more doors or weirdways that led there.

Noon stopped, stood, shook his head like a dog, and then turned to glare at Arthur. "What?"

"N-nothing, sir. Sorry." Arthur slapped some cream on his face, but stopped when Noon cleared his throat.

"You have to frisk it in the bowl, recruit, to make it lather. And use the back of the blade, so you don't behead yourself." He was gone before Arthur could thank him, but the boy followed his instructions and entered the weirdway just as the washroom began to disappear. Dawn nodded in satisfaction. "Good. This way."

She pointed out 'landmarks' for him to remember as they went. "I don't have the time to escort you every day, so you'll need to learn your way around," she explained. "If you get lost, ask a Denizen for directions."

They finally stopped outdoors in a parade ground of sorts. Several groups of Denizens were performing drills or simply marching, but Dawn strode right past them, to a medium-built, short Denizen only half a foot taller than Arthur.

Come to think of it, many Denizens in the Great Maze that he had seen were shorter. Perhaps it was for practicality in battle, Arthur mused.

"Corp. Gunsworth," Dawn greeted, and saluted.

"'Ello, Mars'all Dawn," Gunsworth bellowed, so loudly he accidentally startled a group of Denizens performing a complicated-looking drill. Arthur winced.

"Here's Recruit Penhaligon. He's all yours for the day."

"'E's all mine, is 'e?" Gunsworth grinned. "I'll make a soldier outta 'im, Mars'all."

Dawn smiled, saluted once more, and left.

"S'e's a real doll," Gunsworth said. "Not like all t'ose ot'er 'ig'er-up snobs."

"I guess so, sir. From what I've seen, that is."

"Wot? I wasn't talking to you!" he snapped. "All rig't, recruit, let me see you take ten paces forward."

Arthur wasn't sure what a pace exactly was- one or two steps- but he decided to risk it, and stopped where he'd counted ten.

"Can't you count, recruit? T'at was nine!"

Arthur took another step and muttered apologies.

"Now stand at attention!" Gunsworth barked.

Arthur complied.

The rest of the day passed with Gunsworth bellowing commands, and Arthur following them. He felt like he had learned at least a million different drills, but Gunsworth told him the real number- five. By the time he was excused for dinner, he was exhausted, barely standing. Either Dawn assumed he would be able to get there himself or she was held up, because no one came to show him the way.

Arthur had to ask a grumpy-looking Denizen in what he thought was Horde armor, who waved him off in the general direction of the mess, and ended up sitting down twenty minutes late.

Sir Thursday shot him a look of pure hatred. "What took you so long?"

"I got lost," Arthur admitted.

"Hmph," Thursday snorted, but Dawn said, "Do you like xghsitfh?"

"Um, what?"

"Xghsitfh," she repeated, holding up a plate of bright orange meat-looking food.

"I've never had it in my life."

Thursday narrowed his eyes. "Are you too good for the food at my table?"

"No, not at all!" Arthur hastily speared a lump of the… whatever it was… and shoved it in his mouth. It tasted an awful lot like chicken, but had the consistency of frog legs. When Arthur was only halfway through his meal, Thursday excused himself and strode away, pausing to smash a glass sculpture before exiting.

"He restrained himself," Noon said casually, mouth full. "Must be a good day."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Dusk retorted, mouth also full.

Dawn gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. Arthur laughed, and then she joined in, and Dusk and Noon too, though they still hadn't swallowed. Dawn shot them a warning look that made everyone laugh even harder, and Dusk nearly choked before Noon gave him a Denizen's version of the Heimlich.

"I'm done," Dusk said, slightly red in the face, and walked out of the mess. After a moment, Noon followed him.

Alone with Arthur, Dawn grinned. "Are you up for a little fun?"

"Sure."

"C'mon, let me show you my secret spot."

Dawn's secret spot, it turned out, was up at least twenty flights of stairs. Instead of going through the door at the top of the ridiculously tall tower, she stopped just a hair short of it and waited for Arthur, who by then was at least fifteen steps below her with aching thighs and trembling legs, regretting his decision to accompany her. Once Arthur reached her, Dawn pushed him into the wall.

Except he didn't hit a wall.

He landed on his back in a weirdway, for a moment thinking, as he stared at the inky darkness above and around him, that he was going blind. Then his mind caught up as Dawn emerged and helped him up.

"This way," she said, voice sounding abnormally flat in the weirdway, as if the strange 'walls' were drinking in the noise, only the smallest slivers escaping to be heard.

Arthur followed her, the weirdway taking many twists and turns, like a convulsing snake. They exited into sudden light that was rather dim since the Maze's clockwork sun was nearly set, but it seemed immensely bright to Arthur after the barely-lit weirdway, sending him into fits of uncontrolled blinking.

"Oh, I thought I had more. Oh well."

Arthur turned. "More what?"

Dawn winked. "Water balloons." She was holding too and standing next to an open chest. He realized they were on a low parapet that seemed to have no door and was hidden in a little 'pocket' of the building. From their position, he could see several Denizens milling about below, most noticeably Noon, standing out because of his fiery red hair.

Dawn handed him a water balloon. "This is a water balloon."

"I know that, sir."

"Humor me." She pointed to Noon. "That is my brother."

"He is, sir?"

"Well, not biologically, of course. I just call him that."

"All right." Arthur nodded.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, sir."

Dawn made a throwing motion.

"Oooh," Arthur exhaled, understanding and moving to the edge of the parapet. "Will he see us?"

"Not at all. This is invisible from below."

"Why, sir?"

"How should I know? It just is! Yet another perk of the House. Now, shall I give the count, or shall you?"

"You do it, sir."

"All right." Dawn smirked mischievously. "One… two… THREE!"

At 'three,' they both threw the balloons, watching them smack into Noon below.

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?" he yelled. "WHERE DO THESE DRATTED THINGS KEEP COMING FROM?!"

Arthur laughed, and Dawn's bell-like tones joined in with his in harmony. He didn't think he'd ever laughed so much in one day with one Denizen, with the possible exception of Suzy, though she was a Piper's Child and he was usually in too much danger to appreciate it when she tried to make him feel better, though he did afterwards.

They bombarded several other Denizens in the same fashion until Dawn ran out of the water balloons. "Let's head back," Dawn suggested. "You need to rest up for tomorrow."

Arthur's smile faded. Back down twenty flights of stairs? He wasn't sure he could do that. "Could we rest a bit first, sir. To gather energy?"

"Sure."

Arthur sat down and closed his eyes. He was certain it was only a second, but when he opened them, Dawn was carrying him, and they were half-way down the tower. He shut them again, deeply asleep, and far into slumber by the time Dawn lay him in his bed.


	3. Chapter 3- Bathroom Attendants

**Ch. 3 is here! Please review and tell me what you think!**

**I'm not sure I got the Bathroom Attendants' masks right. Please forgive me for any mistakes.**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE- BATHROOM ATTENDANTS**

The next three weeks were almost pure torture.

Corp. Gunsworth was not a nice drill sergeant. Arthur supposed no nice drill sergeant existed, but still. Besides not being able to so much as pronounce the 'h' in any word and thus being almost incomprehensible, Gunsworth didn't seem to care that Arthur was just a mortal boy. He pushed the boy to such extremes that Arthur discovered numerous muscles he didn't know he had, every discovery so painful he had to hold back tears. He had to admit, though, that his endurance was slowly building.

Nowhere fast enough for Gunsworth.

Dinner was not much better. Sir Thursday had told Arthur to be grateful for his daily meal, since most soldiers didn't receive repast until the end of a six-month period, sometimes earlier if an ample reward was in order. Arthur was indeed grateful for his food. He was, however, not happy that he had to share it with Thursday. The Denizen was increasing volatile every day, and eventually stopped coming to dinner altogether. Noon and Dusk explained this was because, in his current moods, Thursday posed a risk to all of them, especially to Arthur.

The only bright spot in all of this was Marshall Dawn. Somehow, she knew exactly when he needed to be left alone, and when he needed something to perk him up. She gave him all sorts of little treats and surprises: candies she had nicked from Thursday's private larder, extra sharp-shooting lessons (Gunsworth was hesitant to give Arthur _any, _because of the shortage of Nothing-powder), and even quick pointers in fencing. Arthur quite enjoyed the fencing lessons, though by the end of them he was so sore he wished Dawn would just let him sleep several hours.

But she didn't. She always woke him before the Great Maze's purple moon fully set, before so much as a single ray of sunshine peeked over the horizon. Like a grinning, ever-perky sentinel of smiling doom, there she was every morning to ruin his blissful, too-few hours of sleep. And when in the House did _she _wake up? She was already dressed, shaved- which Arthur still thought was ridiculous- and even already begun the day's work by the time she came to get him. He supposed she might have woken him up early so that he wouldn't have to share the washroom with Noon and Dusk, who he realized on his third day were not the most cordial when unsupervised. He had decided Dawn acted too much like a know-it-all and went for an extra twenty minutes of sleep. The result was attempting to shave in the mayhem of the washroom. He didn't even know where the bubbles floating around came from. Bubbles!

Needless to say, he never made that mistake again.

Though he didn't know how, Arthur survived those three weeks, and even started to have a sort of filial affection for Dawn, Noon, and Dusk, almost as if they were family. Dawn was certainly the most motherly Denizen he'd ever seen, and Dusk told him it was because she spent so much time around Piper's Children. "We may not seem like it," he told Arthur, "but us soldiers especially have a soft spot for children."

Now, Arthur was marching to the mess on his own. Three weeks was ample time to get acquainted with the Star Fort and even the Citadel, and he could find his way around it with ease. He stopped at the large noticeboard in the main hallway. It usually didn't have anything to do with him, though every now and then Dawn or Gunsworth would post something about extra lessons, which almost always elicited a groan. He made it a habit to check, even though he either never liked what he saw or never saw anything.

"Recruit Penhaligon report to Bathroom Attendants at 0600?" Arthur read aloud. "What are Bathroom Attendants?"

He turned to ask a nearby Denizen the question. All the Denizens in the Fort had presumably gotten used to his presence, though none were ever very pleasant- after all, he was still a recruit, and a mortal one at that. There were, however, no Denizens around. That was strange. This was the 'thoroughfare' of the Fort, a hub of the Denizen traffic; it was never empty.

"Hmm," Arthur mused.

He brought it up at dinner. Sir Thursday was there this time around, clearly not interested in conversation. But Arthur was curious, and he ventured, "Sir, what are bathroom attendants?"

Sir Thursday looked up from his plate of greens. "What? Where did you see that?"

"The noticeboard. It said I had to report to Bathroom Attendants tomorrow, sir."

Sir Thursday pounded the table, adding yet another dent to the numerous already collected there, and cursed loudly. Dawn winced. "Sir-"

"That- that- first she drops him off on me, then she tries to wash him between the ears!"

"Wash me between the ears?" Arthur cried, startled.

"I- we- won't allow it," Dawn assured him.

"There's nothing I can do about it," Thursday growled. "The nerve. This will set your training back for sure, and no doubt has... political... reasons behind it."

No one needed to add that Thursday hated politics; it was well-known. Arthur didn't think a single Denizen in the Great Maze liked politics.

"I can't be washed between the ears!" Arthur said.

"But you must be," Thursday sighed, the anger already leaving him. Arthur frowned. He wasn't ever so defeatist; the campaign really must not have been going well at all.

"Surely, you can appeal, sir," Noon suggested.

"It'd go nowhere. The Upper House runs both the Bathroom Attendants and the Appeals. They'd just ignore it." Thursday scowled. "Tomorrow, eh? You better get started."

"Get started on what?" Arthur asked.

"Writing down important things- name, favorite color, anything you'd like to remember. I suggest you'd not make it too... readable... so that it may compromise your safety if it falls into the wrong hands," Thursday replied. "I will excuse you from training tomorrow."

"Really? That's nice."

"You probably won't be conscious," Noon said. "That's the real reason."

"Oh." For a second, Arthur had actually thought Sir Thursday was being nice.

"I am a soldier," Thursday said. "I follow orders. I'm sorry, Arthur, but your orders are to report tomorrow at 0600. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur said, and nodded. He noticed not one of them- Dawn, Noon, Dusk, or Thursday- was meeting his gaze. Almost as if he was diseased, or dying.

* * *

Arthur had no idea whatsoever on what to write.

He started off by topping the paper with 'Arthur Penhaligon.' Underneath, he wrote down the name of his family. He thought for a moment, then added, 'Leaf,' and 'Branch- prefers to be called Ed.' He wrote his age- 12- and his favorite color- blue. But after that, he was stumped.

Arthur knew being the Rightful Heir was important, but he had no idea how to code it. In the end, he wrote, 'R.H.' and scribbled underneath, 'Mister Monday, Grim Tuesday, Drowned Wednesday.' After a moment of hesitation, he also quickly printed 'Steward- DP, friend- Suzy TB,' and 'Human.' Hopefully, he would not forget his wish to retain his humanity.

Looking back at his notes, Arthur wondered if he'd made them too cryptic. Would he understand them? And as for Suzy TB- would he remember it as Suzy Turquoise-Blue, or Suzy Tuberculosis? Hopefully not the second.

Arthur snickered at the thought. _Suzy Tuberculosis..._

A rap on the door brought his attention out of the past and into the present. Arthur quickly stuck the paper in his pocket and opened the door. Dusk saluted. "Recruit. I wanted to assure you that if you wish, I could hold on to something for you, until you need it, so as to keep it safe after your washing."

Arthur shrugged. "I don't have anything, but thanks." Arthur fingered the ring in his pocket, a gift from Dr. Scamandros. The silver was overrun in four parts gold, and if two more parts, he would become a Denizen. It was important to him, but he didn't think Dusk needed to hold on to it. He would have it in his pocket, where it was safe enough.

"Silver is supposed to help resist the washing," Dusk said suddenly. "Silver coins under the tongue. And salt."

Then he was gone.

Arthur sighed. If he couldn't escape the washing, he might as well get some sleep- every muscle and tendon in his body screamed for it.

* * *

Arthur didn't have a clock, but he could tell Dawn had come for him far earlier than normal. "Wash and shave, quickly," she said in a harsh whisper, looking over her shoulder often.

Arthur complied. Once he was done, she beckoned for him to follow her.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where are we going?"

Dawn put a finger to her lips.

After several minutes, Arthur realized they were going up the path to her secret spot, though in the dark it was nearly unrecognizable. He nearly tripped in the weirdway, still not used to the strange ground- if it could be called that- and shivered once he reached the parapet. It was cold, and the moon was a quarter of the way on its descent. It didn't take a genius to know that it wouldn't be 0600 for at least an hour.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked again.

"I'm technically disobeying orders, that's what," Dawn replied. "Noon and Dusk are covering for me. I wanted to hide you, but I was a bit too afraid... they told me to go for it. Um, I suppose you could wait here until around 0800. Maybe later. Y'know what, I'll come and get you. Yes, that sounds good. Once the Bathroom Attendants leave, I'll come and get you."

"Um, do you think they'll find me?" Arthur asked.

"Probably not," Dawn said. Then she bit her lip and amended, "Hopefully."

"Are you allowed to be doing this?" Arthur inquired. From what he'd seen of Thursday, he doubted the Day would be all right with Dawn disobeying orders, even if it was an order Thursday himself didn't want to follow.

"No! That's why it's disobeying orders!"

"But is it all right? Won't Thursday..."

Dawn understood his meaning. "I'll be fine. He's dealt some rough ones before; it can't be too bad. The important thing is you."

"Dawn..."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

* * *

Arthur fell asleep.

He hadn't meant to. He told himself he'd watch the sky, would wait for Dawn to come get him, but it was so hard to keep his eyes open, especially since he'd slept even less than usual.

He jerked awake when he heard a strange groaning behind him.

Arthur jumped to his feet and blinked. The weirdway was opening; Dawn was coming for him!

He smiled, but then his cheer quickly turned into panic when he heard voices.

"I apologize for my subordinate's actions. Rest assured, she will be reprimanded."

A voice undoubtedly Thursday's.

_He found me. He must have forced Dawn to tell where she hid me. He found me, he found me, he found me..._

Two things raced through Arthur's mind: the first was that Thursday would not be pleased as his failure to report, and the second was that he was about to be washed between the ears. Arthur remembered Dusk telling him last night that silver and salt helped resist...

_But I don't have silver, or salt, _Arthur thought dismally, sticking his hands in his pockets. His fingertips brushed the ring, and he hastily brought it out and inspected it in the wan light. It wasn't completely silver, and it wasn't a coin, but it was better than nothing.

Arthur had just put it in his mouth when the weirdway burst open and Thursday roared onto the parapet, red in the face. He caught sight of Arthur and grabbed the boy's hair, pulling him off his feet and yanking him in front of three cloaked figures. It hurt. Badly. So badly Arthur nearly choked on the ring. Thursday let go, and Arthur fell onto his knees in front of the three, each one wearing a different mask: one was twisted in agony, one was weeping, and one was laughing, though it was not a joyful chuckle of mirth, but something more sinister.

They held a crackling crown of shimmering blue and white, and Arthur tried to dash past them, to the open weirdway beyond, but Thursday lashed out and grabbed his ankle, bringing him crashing to the ground. The crown descended upon his head, and Arthur felt deep, intense pain...

Then blackness.

He was falling, silently screaming, in the nihilism that swallowed him whole.


	4. Chapter 4- Only Ten Lashes

**CHAPTER FOUR- Only Ten Lashes**

_"That's her?"_

_"Yes. You were only two weeks old."_

_The boy looked down at the photograph of his biological mother, holding up an infant that would one day grow to become him. "Influenza took her?"_

_"And your father."_

_"I look like them."_

_"Yes. You have her eyes."_

_But not, the boy thought, her memory._

* * *

The boy awoke, dream already fading. What had it been about? He couldn't remember. A thought danced just out of grasp, and he reached for it, as if it was tangible.

He put his hand down, and looked around. A wave of panic struck him. Where was he? The cabinet, the strange bed he was in, the walls, the three freakishly-good-looking but not very tall people- everything was alien, unknown. Then his vision blurred, and he felt himself fall back, his head gently striking the pillow. Colors danced across, a rainbow mirage, and then faded. The colors took the panic with them, and when he sat up again, he was struck with torrents of familiarity. He had been in this room before, had known these people who were now little more than strangers.

"He's coming to," he heard one of them say, a broad-built, dark-haired man.

"Good," replied his twin with flaming red hair. "Hey, can you read the name tag, or did they erase that ability too? Sometimes they do that, the buggers." He pointed to a piece of paper pinned to his chest.

The boy squinted. At first, the lines were illegible, but as he stared at them, they morphed, and understanding dawned on him. "Your name is... No- Noo- Noob."

"Yes, that's righ- wait." Noob ripped off his name tag and glared at it. "Who changed this?"

The woman and dark-haired man exchanged amused glances and snickered. "His name is actually Noon," the woman said. "You know him."

"I do?" the boy asked, then whimpered at the onset of a sudden migraine.

_Use the back, so you don't behead yourself._

_WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?_

"I do," the boy confirmed. "Marshall Noon. And you're Dawn and Dusk."

"That was fast," Dawn said, a bit incredulously. "Usually it takes a while. I bet they took other, farther-back memories."

"The important ones, no doubt," Dusk gruffed.

"We're not important?" Noon asked, putting on a mock, hurt face. "Oh, those Upper-Floor idiots!"

"Do you remember your name? Can you tell us?" Dusk asked.

The boy frowned. "I'm- I'm- I'm-" He stopped, and shook his head. "I don't know."

Dawn pointed to a name tag pinned on the boy's own pajamas. "Try reading that."

"Arthur- Pendragon. No, my bad. Penhaligon. Arthur Penhaligon."

"Here." Noon handed him a sheet of paper. "Can you understand this?"

Arthur took it gratefully, eager for anything about his past. The time in the Army was hazy, though he dimly remembered it. Everything before, however, was nothing but darkness, an uncertain past that hopefully had nothing to do with his future.

"Who's Suzy Tuberculosis?" Arthur asked after he'd finished reading it.

* * *

Arthur went right back into the training schedule.

"Glad to see you back, recruit," said Gunsworth.

"Really? You're glad to see me?" Arthur didn't remember much of Gunsworth, but he didn't think being glad was one of the Corp.'s traits.

"Wot? S'ow me your salutes! Or do I 'ave to reteac' 'em to you, you leftover lump of good-for-not'ing Not'ing!?"

Arthur smirked. Some things, he was happy to note, don't change with a washing.

* * *

Some things did.

Marshall Dawn did not come to see him after his training sessions like she used to. Arthur missed that. She had covertly told him she had acquired more water balloons, though she never came to take him back to the spot. It probably wasn't secret anymore, he mused. Thursday had found it.

Now that he thought about, he didn't see any of the Marshalls after his initial awakening. This didn't affect his training in any way, though he didn't like being alone with Thursday at dinner that night.

"Are you going to eat that?" Thursday growled.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"Is something wrong?"

"Where are the Marshalls?" he asked.

"Getting what they deserve," Thursday snorted. "They disobeyed orders. You did too, though they pleaded with me that any action against you for this would be... unwise. I do not agree. This sets a precedent for mutiny."

"I won't do it again, sir."

"Oh, I know you won't. But that is not the issue here, is it, recruit?"

"No, sir," Arthur agreed dutifully.

"I was going to give you several hundred lashes, but Noon pointed out that with your mortal... handicap... you would not survive. After careful consideration, I have lowered the number to ten."

"Only ten, sir?" Arthur inquired, incredulous. That sounded very little compared to one hundred. He would have expected fifty, or twenty-five.

Thursday smiled, but it was a cold, loathsome smirk. "When I deal the lashes, with the cat-o-nine-tails, recruit, it will not feel like _only _ten."

"I see, sir. I suppose... I deserve them."

"Good, recruit. I see you and I are eye-to-eye on this. Then I suppose you won't mind if I give them to you now? Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you were punished in private, without the whole Fort or Citadel looking on."

"Yes, sir." Arthur immediately knew this was a favor, but he wondered if it was a trap. With no one watching, Thursday could easily double or triple the number, and no one would be the wiser.

"Please take off your shirt and turn your back to me."

Arthur followed instructions, suddenly feeling very cold in the warm room. Thursday took the shirt from his hands and ripped a sleeve off, then tied it around Arthur's mouth. "To prevent the screaming," he said.

Thursday was not holding anything, but as Arthur watched from the corner of his eye, a long, nine-tailed whip appeared in his hand, glowing white-hot for a moment before sizzling down to a burning red. Then Thursday was directly behind him, and he could no longer see.

There was a guttural roar, and a cracking noise. Something sharp, burning, stinging, bit into Arthur's back, and though he told himself he wouldn't scream, he found himself crying out through the gag.

"ONE!" Thursday shouted.

Another strike, so bad it brought tears to his eyes and flashes dancing in front of his vision.

"TWO!"

Arthur was aware of the door being slammed open, someone pleading with Thursday. "Sir, stop this! He's just a boy! He's just-"

"SILENCE!" Another crack of the whip, but it didn't hit him. The mysterious would-be rescuer shrieked with pain, and then Arthur felt another unexpected slash across his back.

"THREE!"

_Only three? _Arthur thought dismally as he slowly began to see only black, the person who had come in pleading and crying with Thursday to stop.

* * *

Once Arthur came into consciousness, he realized he hadn't moved. He was lying on the ground of the mess, in terrible agony. His back felt like it was on fire, but that wasn't what shocked him.

"Sir, please," Dawn pleaded, Noon and Dusk kneeling at her side. "I only wished to question the wisdom of following the Upper House on the cam-"

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" The whip cracked over their heads, and they came closer to the ground, hands protectively above them.

Dawn looked up tentatively. "Sir, they are politicians. What would they know of-"

"I said, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! You," he hissed, grabbing Dawn by the hair and hoisting her to her feet. "Why don't you ever SHUT UP? Disobeying orders, questioning authority..."

Arthur tried to say something, but no words came out. Then Noon picked him up, and Dusk followed, and they started to walk out. Arthur had absolutely no doubt about what was happening.

They didn't want him to see.

"She's your sister!" he cried. "Go back! Stop him! She's your sister!"

He heard a high-pitched wail as they exited the mess, but he couldn't see anything.

"Shall we take him to the infirmary?" Dusk asked Noon in his quiet, still voice. It was usually soothing, but now it only incited Arthur.

"No! NO! Go back! Go back!"

"Dawn will live," Noon said, in a strange, monotonous tone.

"How can you say that? GO BACK!"

"We will not be ordered around by a recruit, a mere mortal brat at that," Noon said harshly. "You are bleeding. No worries. The nurses at the infirmary of the Citadel are quite skilled."

"What about Dawn?"

"What about her?"

"YOU SICKEN ME!" Arthur yelled, and tried to struggle. But he was too weak, and Noon was too strong. By now, they were too far to hear Dawn's cries, but Arthur thought they were incessant. No, he _knew_, though he didn't know how he knew.

He whimpered at the onslaught of pain, and images and voices whirled and skipped and danced. He felt dizzy, like the world was spinning, but he didn't stop trying to escape Noon's grasp, beating against the Denizen's arm with his fist in pathetic defiance. It made sense to him, now. His paper made sense, but it brought him no solace.

"I command you as the Rightful Heir," Arthur hissed.

Noon stopped. "Recruit, without the Will or the Key, that holds no power."

It did, Arthur could tell. Otherwise he would have kept going. "Take me back," Arthur said, voice low.

"Sir Thursday will simply strike at you. He would not wish to, but in his rage, he is uncontrollable, and he may kill you," Dusk said.

"I don't care. Take me back."

They retraced their steps in eerie silence, no sound hitting them but for their echoing footfalls. They stopped in front of the mess.

"Put me down," Arthur whispered, for some reason feeling that this silence needed to be maintained as much as possible.

"No. If it comes to it, I will run with you."

The door creaked open, and Sir Thursday walked out. There was some froth at the edges of his mouth, his face worn and haggard. "I didn't mean to," he croaked. "I didn't mean to. You must understand... I can never rest... I didn't mean to..." He stepped out, and Arthur saw he was carrying a bundle.

He bit back a gasp when he realized it was Dawn, covered in blue Denizen's blood.

"I will take her," Thursday said softly. "Take the recruit and follow me. I didn't mean to..."

Arthur thought that he had been telling Noon and Dusk, but he soon understood that he was really talking to Dawn, though he didn't even know if she was conscious or not.

Arthur himself, he realized, almost wasn't. He drifted in and out of a dangerous sleep, one that threatened to hold him under for who-knew-how-long. _Only ten lashes did this? _he thought wearily. _Only ten lashes?_

He recalled Thursday's words.

_It will not feel like _only _ten lashes._

* * *

**A/N: To be honest, writing this chapter made me feel really bad. In _Sir Thursday, _we know poor Dawn had something like this happen to her in canon as well. But I still feel bad about it.**

**Next chapter will be much lighter, I promise. **

**If you liked this chapter or any previous one, please review! Suggestions are welcome! **

**Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5- Our Spirit Eater

**A/N: This one mirrors canon a bit closely; I needed some way to get Suzy to the Citadel, so here you go. Also, you'll see me avoid calling the Denizen either Noon or Dusk, due to the book not quite being clear on which it was (the Keeper said "S. Sat.'s Dusk," but later, Suzy calls him her Noon, so go figure). **

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE- OUR SPIRIT EATER**

Suzy screamed.

She had thought that going through the Front Door would be as easy as using any other door; she'd just dive-bomb into it, wings spread out, and find herself conveniently in the Lower House, where the pocket she held could and should become Dame Primus's problem, or, more preferably, an elevator could be hitched to deliver it to Arthur himself. It was a mission of utmost importance, for without its destruction, a cocigrue would forever replace Arthur in his Realm, his world of Earth, and stop him from ever going home.

But now she was stuck in a limbo that was neither the Secondary Realms nor the House, clutching the box with the sorcerous pocket that was the Spirit Eater's lifeblood to her chest. "Oi! Lieutenant Keeper! I'm stuck in your stupid Door!" Suzy shouted.

There was no reply as Suzy fell in the void-like nihilism- if she even _was _falling. It was hard to know which way was up or down, and very difficult to orient oneself. For all she knew, she was stuck in place, not going anywhere. She flapped her wings, but with no point of reference, she had no idea if her situation had changed or not.

"Hello! Somebody come and get me, please!" she tried again.

"One moment, one moment," came the Lieutenant Keeper's placid voice, though he was nowhere in sight. "There is trouble at the cross-roads."

Suzy snorted, leaned back, crossed her arms and legs, and waited, as if perched on an invisible stool. Her squashed top hat slid over to cover her eyes, so she spared one hand to fix it before returning to her position.

"Someone looks like they're about to throw a temper tantrum," said a voice that was definitely not the Lieutenant Keeper's.

Suzy 'stood,' and turned to face a very tall, very handsome Denizen. He bowed, his top hat miraculously not moving a centimeter at the angle. He had a shock of black hair and sported a pair of wings, which seemed permanent, unlike Suzy's pair. He carried a long, glistening blade that shone in the darkness. He smiled, and both his eyes and tongue flashed a strange obsidian.

"Who're you?" Suzy demanded.

"That would be asking," he said, straightening. "I see you have our Spirit Eater's pocket."

"Your Spirit Eater?" Suzy sniffed, her grip on the pocket tightening as she pulled it closer to her chest.

"Ours," corrected the Denizen. He held out his hand. "Let's not get in our way. Hand it over to me now, and I shall show you the nearest point of egress from the Door."

"So, basically, I give you this, and then you get me out of this abyss of death," Suzy clarified.

"That is what I said, yes."

"FAT CHANCE!" She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry.

The Denizen sneered. "What a petty defiance. We are stronger than you are. Hand me the pocket, and I shall not be forced to do something… unpleasant."

"As if!" Suzy snorted, but she found that, to her horror, her hand was moving of its own accord. She was slowly holding out the pocket, fingers beginning to uncurl as she extended it towards him, for the taking.

The Denizen smirked and reached out, then drew back his hand with a howl as a hot, blinding light dashed between the two of them. The light shot past for a moment, then turned back and leaped at him, then dimmed as there was a horrific screech of crashing metal.

Suzy realized it was the Lieutenant Keeper, here to save a damsel in distress.

"Kick his bum to the moon, Keeper!" she cried, watching the two exchange blows. After a moment, she tucked the pocket under her hat. _There's no safer place, _she thought to herself.

The Keeper did not reply, ducking a swipe from the Denizen. He retaliated with a deft kick, and his wings pulled close as he prepared for a dive. Swooping down like a bird of prey, the Keeper extended his wings at the last moment, using the tips to slash and slice at the Denizen's face.

The Denizen shrieked and brought his own wings around to encase his upper torso and head, crossing his sword in front of the Keeper in a defensive maneuver. Then he rotated, clearly using the Door's lack of gravity or dimension to his advantage. From his upside-down position, he snarled and hacked at the Keeper savagely, his sword brightening as it came hurtling at Suzy's rescuer.

The Keeper's wings gave a mighty flap, and he shot safely above the blade, bringing his own sword arcing down in retribution.

The Denizen twisted, but either didn't twist enough or twisted too far, and the weapon bit into his shoulder. The Denizen screeched, a savage sound of pain, as he dislodged it and drew back, hand to his wound. "This does not end," he seethed, retreating towards a window of white that appeared behind him. Suzy tried to peer past the Keeper to see what it was. As she watched, the white shimmered and showed a picture of a study with several umbrella stands, though only one solitary umbrella occupied it. The Denizen snarled once more for good measure, then turned and jumped into it. The window shimmered once more, and suddenly he was next to the stand, scowling and dripping blue onto a carpet that Suzy was certain its owner would not appreciate new stains on. Then the window disappeared, plunging the interior of the Door back into darkness.

The Keeper frowned. "Coward, to retreat for such a minor flesh wound," he spat. "Though I suspect he began to realize that I am wiser than we last met." The Keeper turned and held out his hand. "Well met, Suzy Turquoise-Blue."

The Keeper's long, silver hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, and his sword and waistcoat both had blue blood on it, though whether it was his own or the other Denizen's or someone else's entirely, Suzy did not know. He looked worn and tired, but friendly nonetheless.

"Who was that?" Suzy asked, accepting his hand gratefully.

"Superior Saturday's Dusk. Or perhaps her Noon. I am not certain," he replied. "She switched them, for some reason or other. They probably offended her in some manner. No matter. We are old adversaries, they and I."

"Nice," Suzy said. "Mortal enemies. Um, why?"

"Because their mistress is probably one of the most interfering Denizens in the House, regularly entering the Secondary Realms," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he was neither approving nor condemning their actions. "I, at least, attempt to maintain the Original Law, but her minions are quite slippery."

"Slippery, eh? Probably what her carpet's going to be once he's done dripping blue all over it," Suzy shrugged.

The Keeper smiled. "Perhaps."

"Well, I don't really give a hoot about her carpet. I need to take care of this," Suzy said, tapping her top hat.

"A new hat probably is in order," the Keeper said. "It seems quite worn."

"No, the pocket in my hat!" Suzy exclaimed. "The Spirit Eater's lifeblood!"

"I jest," the Keeper replied. "I thought as much. Now, is there someplace you wish for me to take you?"

"Where does the Front Door open?" Suzy asked. "Other than the Atrium of the Lower House, I mean."

"The Front Door can open in various places in all the demesnes," he replied. "If one knows the spell, one may transform certain doors to, for a time, have the virtue of the Front Door and become it. There are many openings lost, inaccessible, or dangerous, but many I would be pleased to show you."

"Could you take me to the Great Maze?"

"That demesne is about to be cut off. It is nearly overrun by Nithlings, and it may be quarantined to save the rest of the House from impending doom. If that happens, I will not be able to retrieve you, and you shall be stuck. No elevators or other methods of transportation will avail."

"I don't care. That's where Arthur is, and that's where I'm going."

"The point of egress into the Great Maze is in the Star Fort, in the heart of Sir Thursday's Citadel," the Keeper informed her gravely. "It is most certainly a dangerous place to enter the Maze."

"How many times do I have to say I don't care?" Suzy replied.

"Very well." The Keeper waved his hand, and another window of white appeared in front of Suzy. She jumped for it eagerly, but the Keeper grabbed her sleeve. "Not so fast, Miss Turquoise-Blue."

"What now?" she asked grumpily.

"No wings allowed in the Great Maze," he said, pressing his thumb against Suzy's back, right between her shoulder blades. Her wings popped off and shrunk, and the Keeper pocketed them. "It attracts too much lightening, due to the tiles changing."

"But I have to give them back to Old Primey- er, I mean, Dame Primus."

"Farewell," the Keeper said, ignoring her last comment and giving her a little push. Suzy screamed again as she fell into the white, for a second surrounded in pure white instead of the black of the Door but still nowhere tangible.

Then she hit solid ground with a grunt. "Oooph! Couldn'ta made it gentler, could ya?" she grumbled, scrambling to her feet and taking a quick look around. She was on some sort of outer wall, and a lone sentry was walking away from her.

_Was_. He turned, no doubt wondering about the noise, and pointed his weapon, a pole-ax, straight at Suzy. "Halt! Who goes there?"

"Crap," Suzy mumbled.

* * *

"I apologize," Dusk- or was it Noon?- bowed.

Pravuil frowned. "For Milady's carpet or your failure?" he asked.

Saturday's Time looked down, as if just now realizing the mess he had made all over the study. "Both, I suppose. Which would she care more about?"

"The carpet, more likely," Pravuil sniffed.

"Really?"

"NO!"

"Then she rates this Pretender highly on her list of grievances," the Time said.

"Well, so long as the Great Maze falls, I don't think she'll care much about him either way," Pravuil shrugged.

"That was why she ordered so many Nithlings?"

"Naturally," Pravuil replied patronizingly. "The fall of the Great Maze would aide our plans significantly."

"But won't she need the Pretender to continue them?" the Time asked. "Surely, the fall of the other demesnes would be needed as well-"

"Just the first four would do, perhaps," Pravuil answered. "Maybe the Middle would be needed, but we must be careful and make sure he does not reach the Upper House."

"That would be catastrophic," the Time agreed. "But what shall I do now?"

"Prepare for your report," Pravuil advised, "and pray Milady is in a good mood."


	6. Chapter 6- New Arrivals

**CHAPTER SIX- NEW ARRIVALS**

Arthur winced as the nurse applied a salve to his injuries. It'd been three or four days, but they still hurt as if he had gotten them minutes or seconds before. The healing salve stung a little, but it was nowhere near as bad as the bite of the whip.

"I suppose this has taught you a lesson," the nurse said.

"A big one," Arthur agreed.

"I don't know how well this will work on mortals," the nurse continued, "but it works on Piper's Children, so I'm crossing my fingers." Carefully wiping her fingers free of the remnant salve on a cloth, the nurse then picked up several rolls of gauze and some padding, beginning to dress his wounds. "These will have to be changed daily."

Arthur groaned. Changing the dressing always hurt.

"Where's Marshall Dawn?" he asked.

"In a separate ward. She's fine, don't worry yourself, dear," the nurse soothed. "She's a Denizen, after all. Nowhere near as fragile as you poor mortal stock."

"I guess so," Arthur said softly.

"Oh, cheer up! The world won't end! Though I thought it would last week."

"Why? Where were you last week?" Arthur asked, interest piqued.

"On tile 260/431," the nurse answered. "There'd been a huge battle with the Nithlings. The Horde won, of course- superiority always shines through, as we Denizens like to say- but there were scores wounded."

"Really? But I thought Nithlings weren't that big a threat. I mean, sure they can swarm you in big numbers, but-"

"This lot is organized."

"Organized Nithlings?" Arthur said incredulously. It sounded preposterous. Nithlings, the strange creatures born from Nothing, were usually feral, insane, or downright stupid. They were dangerous, Arthur admitted, and in large numbers they were more than formidable- but never had they been organized. If they were in groups at all, it was with a sort of mob mentality, and the second things started to sour, they'd split up and scamper.

Or so he'd heard from Noon. Arthur only had one-on-one experience with Nithlings, not any military know-how about them. Even one-on-one they were scary and lethal, and he didn't want to meet scores of them.

"Seems so," the nurse said. "Don't know how, or who's leading them. There're all sorts of conspiracy theories ranging about. Some say it's Lord Arthur."

"But I'm right here," Arthur protested.

"Not everyone in the Maze knows that," the nurse shrugged.

"And I wouldn't work with Nithlings," he added.

"Who would?" the nurse asked. Arthur didn't answer; he knew the question was rhetorical.

There was a knock on the door. "Visitor for Recruit Penhaligon," boomed a voice.

_That's strange, _Arthur thought. _Monday's Dusk- er, I mean Noon, they're so hard to keep straight- told me that recruits aren't allowed any visitors. Maybe it's an officer._

The door opened, and Sir Thursday strode in. He stopped in front of Arthur's bed, saluted, and then asked gruffly, "Are you better?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur replied, surprised Sir Thursday would do such a thing as visit a wounded recruit- especially a recruit wounded _because_ of Sir Thursday. "I'm getting there."

"My sentry found this wandering around," Thursday said, and barked at the open doorway, "Come in!"

A girl clad in the scarlet of the Regiment marched in, saluted, and gave a surreptitious wink. Arthur immediately felt himself smile. Why, if it wasn't his best friend in the world, Suzy!

"Explain," Thursday said coldly.

"I don't really know what she's doing here, sir," Arthur admitted. "Um, sorry."

"I was speaking to the reservist, Private Turquoise-Blue."

"Ha, well, sir, to make a long story short, I have a deliver for Recruit Penhaligon here," she said. "We need to destroy this here pocket."

"By whose orders?" Thursday demanded.

"Um, Recruit Penhaligon's, sir."

"Give it to me," he commanded.

"Ah-" Suzy glanced to Arthur, who nodded. He figured he didn't want to suffer the consequences of disobeying orders again. She sighed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small box.

"What is this?" Thursday inquired.

"It's a cocigrue's lifeblood," Arthur answered. "It's replacing me at home."

"Is it?"

"Yes, sir. I wanted to destroy it, so that I would eventually be able to return home."

"I see. I shall consider what to do with it," Thursday replied. He snapped his fingers, and the pocket disappeared.

"Where'd it go?" Arthur said.

"To my study, where it will be safe," Thursday assured him. "Recruit, your orders are to heal as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir!"

"And you, Private Turquoise-Blue," Thursday growled, eyes narrowed. "You should not be here. But now you are. Unfortunately. I suppose you could make yourself useful somehow."

Suzy snapped into a perfect salute. "Yes, sir!" she barked.

Arthur grinned. Things wouldn't be quite so bad with Suzy along.

* * *

Lieutenant Corbie lowered his perspective glass.

"What in the Far Reaches is that thing?" he hissed in a harsh whisper. "A giant spike? How'd they even get it this far into the Maze?" He knew this did not bode well; that tile was scheduled to move straight to 500/500, the master point of the Maze, at sunset. If it didn't go directly there, it would be close enough to easily traverse the distance- perhaps only a tile or two away.

"What should we do, sir?" asked several Major-Sergeants and Privates behind him.

The four of them had been tracking this squadron of Nithlings all day, only to find them rendezvousing with a much, much, much larger force carrying a suspicious and clearly sorcerous object.

"Do you think it was made in the House?" one of the Privates asked.

"Where else would it have been made, stupid?" hissed another.

"Don't be so sure," Corbie replied. "I think such a thing would have been discovered if it was made in the House."

"But it got this far in the Maze without anyone finding it," a Major-Sergeant pointed out.

"What should we do, sir?" repeated the soldier who'd asked the same question earlier.

"Report," Corbie sighed.

A whistle shrieked somewhere distant. The Nithlings gave a screech and turned, eyes fixing on them. Their clawed or taloned, too-many fingered hands closed on the hilts of their weapons, a sure sign of trouble.

"How close are we to a tile border?" Corbie asked.

"Not far, sir. I'd say about half a mile."

"Good. And how long until sunset?"

"Less than a half-hour."

"Everyone, I have one order," Corbie stated.

The other three looked at him, awaiting it. "What is it, sir?"

"Run for your miserable lives."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this one was a bit shorter, for which I apologize. **


	7. Chapter 7- The Spike

**A/N: Up to this point, the fic has been following canon a bit closely, but from this point onward, the divergent will get more and more pronounced. That being said, enjoy!**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN- THE SPIKE**

Corbie threw himself into the ditch, panting heavily. The New Nithling- or whatever he was supposed to call it- was standing right on the tile border. With a snarl, it jumped back just as the tile groaned and gave a strange creaking, which was wise on its part. Any longer, and it could be dismembered by the moving of the tiles.

Corbie poked his head over the ditch. The previous tile, of rolling plains, was now replaced with a lush jungle. Or maybe his tile had moved and replaced some other tile. He let out a loud, long sigh of relief. This was a relatively safe portion of the Maze, and he was close to a fort. His men were on adjacent tiles that were also moved to safer portions, though where exactly he couldn't know without checking his Ephemeris.

Corbie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small lead figure. He tapped this smartly on the top of the figure's head, then placed it on his palm. The figure shook, stretched, and then said, "What is it, Corbie?"

"Urgent report, sir! My squadron and I saw a host of Nithlings holding a large and suspicious object, clearly sorcerous. If the ones holding it hadn't moved, they should be close to 500/500, the master tile! Some of them gave chase to me and my men, however, and I don't know where they are now."

"Understood, Corbie. Well done. I suppose I should send this directly to Sir Thursday?" the figure inquired. Its expression showed the fear and trepidation of the officer Corbie was actually communicating with, several tens or even hundreds of miles away and somewhere in the Maze.

"I think that would be best, sir," Corbie said.

"Directly to Thursday…" the figure mused. "Hmm… well, get yourself somewhere safe, Corbie, and I'll-"

The figure stopped as Corbie grunted, his eyes rolling back, and slumped forward, dropping the lead figure, an arrow protruding out of his back.

It seems he wasn't that safe after all.

* * *

The (currently dry) Eastern Water Defense overlooked a tile of a bucolic village. Usually, this meant a holiday and fair for the Denizens in the Citadel. Unfortunately, a host of Nithlings drawing near destroyed the slim hope of festivities and replaced with the solemn preparations and churning dread of a much more likely battle.

Arthur was handed a sheathed lightning-charged tulwar, a power spear, and a round buckler. Before, his arms would have dragged down, and he would be a stopped, defenseless poor creature at the mercy of the war tools' cumbersome weight. His training at the Fort, despite his brief interlude in the infirmary, had strengthened him. He had no idea how long he'd been in the Maze, either House or Earth time, but it was long enough that he was slowly conforming to the House's definition of soldier.

Arthur stood on the outer bastion, looking over the Eastern Water Defense with anxiety. Sir Thursday had received a missive about a sorcerous object at 500/500, and was summoning all the Piper's Children. Arthur had begged to be out on the bastion until all of them arrived, curious to know what such a large force of organized Nithlings would look like. It was a dangerous curiosity, but he couldn't help it. Someone would come and fetch him soon, but for the moment, he and several other defenders kept a grim watch.

The cannon on their bastion was out of Nothing-laced gunpowder, a bad portent of the future if its service was needed. Arthur had, with Sir Thursday's permission, called Dame Primus with the intention to pretty much beg her to provide some from the Forges; Sir Thursday may have been his enemy when it came to the Will, but in the Army, they were allies and fellow soldiers. Arthur knew it would not be good if Thursday lost the Star Fort, for either of them, and he was not keen to fight a battle without gunpowder.

If he would be fighting. Maybe the summons would come faster than that. He hoped so. An electric tingle ran through his spine every time he thought of battle, a shiver that was equal parts fear and excitement.

"All right, there?" asked a soldier next to him. Arthur blinked up at him. What was his name again? Darre, that was it. And the other soldiers were Esmeralda, Marrie, Philipp, Sarten, and Perseus. Apparently, Perseus was an apt defender and quite talented. Arthur didn't know how much talent was needed to defend a bastion when the cannon was completely useless, but he hoped Perseus had it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Arthur said, and gave a weak smile.

"You nervous?" Darre asked.

"A little," Arthur admitted.

"Why don't you run inside with the other Piper's Children?" Sarten suggested, pointing to a dark line on the horizon. "They're coming, see? We don't much action here with the Water Defense, but still… better safer than sorry."

Arthur shook his head, and jumped when something touched his sleeve. He whirled around, pivoting and ready to draw his sword, bringing his buckler up in a mechanical motion Sgt. Gunsworth had beat into him.

Suzy laughed. "Nerves of steel, eh? Come on, you're the last."

Arthur nodded, blushing a bit at the laughs of the other Denizens. He must've looked ridiculous. He should've known it couldn't have been an enemy, if they were at the horizon only seconds ago.

Arthur followed Suzy inside, to the study of Marshall Noon. There were about twenty Piper's Children inside, and he was a bit surprised to know that the Maze had such a small number of them.

They were watching Sir Thursday, who nodded at Arthur and tapped his pocket. Arthur took his meaning- he had the lifeblood of the Cocigure with him.

"As I was saying," Thursday continued, "the Spike is made of Nothing, and is probably going to soon stop all the tiles from moving. I am taking a small cohort with me via the Improbable Stair to the heart of the Maze, here." Thursday strode to a map on the wall and stabbed the point in question with a small dagger. It didn't surprise Arthur to see more than half the blade sink into the wall as if into butter. "I find this… annoying." He turned. "All I need is five minutes to destroy this Spike, and five minutes to be guarded. Due to the nature of this mission, I am taking volunteers only."

Arthur immediately stepped forward. Thursday had his pocket, either because he was trying to blackmail Arthur or had a brilliant plan to get rid of it. He had mentioned the Spike was made of Nothing…

Suzy sighed softly and stepped forward as well.

At least another ten followed suit, including a small, dark-skinned boy who seemed far too optimistic.

"The rest of you are dismissed!" Thursday shouted at the ones who hadn't gone forward, "and if you held any rank, it's stripped! Out of my sight!"

They saluted, spun smartly, and marched out without a word of protest. _Wise, _thought Arthur.

"Lieutenant Penhaligon!" snapped Thursday.

"I'm just a recruit, sir," Arthur said.

"You are a lieutenant now," Thursday replied, "and my second-in-command for this mission. Come here, beside me."

Arthur obeyed, suddenly nervous. Why would Thursday promote him out of the blue?

"The plan is very simple," Thursday addressed the cohort of Piper's Children. "Simply put, we shall emerge as close to the Spike as possible, and I shall begin to destroy it. All I ask for is several minutes. You shall defend me, and once it is destroyed, we shall go back to the Citadel vai the Stairs. Given that this assault is a complete and utter surprise- or should be, at any rate- we have a very high rate of success. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

"Good. The armory is at your disposal. Pick whatever weapons you see fit, though I encourage you not to overburden yourselves- I shan't be able to carry a cannon up the Stairs." He grinned, showing it was a jest.

There was a ripple of dutiful laughter, but the joke was rather lame, and everyone knew the chuckling was forced. Thursday shrugged, seemingly not bothered, and motioned with his hand for them all to scamper off and get equipped.

"Wait, Lieutenant Penhaligon," Thursday called.

Arthur turned. He knew what sort of rages Thursday could get in. If he tried anything, he would duck and run, try and find one of the Marshalls…

"I have the pocket," Thursday said, confirming Arthur's suspicions. "I suppose you could try casting it into the Spike, since it is made of considerable Nothing and may suffice to destroy the cocigrue."

"You're… actually helping me?" Arthur croaked out.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're one of the Morrow Days, sir."

" Lieutenant, let me explain something to you. I am a soldier. I follow orders, without question. I may be regent of the Great Maze, but I am not the Ultimate Commander-in-Chief. The Architect was, and now that She has left, I am convinced Sunday has the appropriate power and authority. Of course, most of my orders come from Saturday, his deputy…"

"So she told you to change the campaign and recruit me, sir?" Arthur asked.

"That is correct. I did not want you here, nor do I know why she would want you here. In the House, Lieutenant, one is either on strings or pulling them. Unfortunately, it's quite clear what category I fall under, and I cannot do anything about the situation. Lieutenant, when I broke the Will, all I did was follow orders. Sunday and Saturday ordered me to hide it and keep the Key for myself, so I did. They remain my orders. So unless I hear otherwise, I shan't give you the Key or free the Will, and I forbid you from trying to do either."

"Yes, sir." Arthur nodded.

"Be a good soldier, Lieutenant. A lot can happen in a hundred years," Thursday said.

"My family would…"

"If we destroy the pocket, Arthur, it's possible that the time relativities may adjust themselves to your absence and you will return not too late after the death of the Spirit Eater," Thursday explained, "though I am not a sorcerer, and thus have no knowledge. Also, I kept this from you until an opportune moment could arrive."

Thursday handed him a rumpled piece of paper. Arthur took it and scanned it quickly, his heart sinking with every word.

**_Dear Arthur,_**

**_ An agent of ours has your parents under its control. Unless you immediately relinquish the Keys to us, and give up all claims to being the Rightful Heir, we will have our agent cleanse their minds of all knowledge of you. Our agent will also do this to your brothers and sisters and friends. It will be as if you were never born. Your home will continue to physically exist, but you will have no place in it. As we know you wish to, House knows why, return to an inferior mortal existence, you should consider this a great opportunity. You don't know what you're dealing with. Simply sign on the dotted line below, and everything will be taken care of._**

**_ Saturday, Most Superior Denizen of the Upper House_**

"Why did you hide this from me?" Arthur demanded.

"I thought it would be better to show you myself, instead of letting you read it alone."

"Why?"

"Because I'm warning you that Saturday is correct," Thursday answered. "You _don't _know what you're dealing with."

"I'm not scared of her, Lady Friday, or Lord Sunday," Arthur said.

Thursday shook his head. "I feared that is what you would say. Lieutenant, you should fear them, and you would do well to be cautious of them. I myself fear them. It is not unwise to do so. But I think you will find that, if you continue on your current course, Saturday was warning you of something quite different."

"Then who? Lord Sunday?"

"I think she was warning you of the Will," Thursday replied.

"Of course she'd try to turn me against it. She's a Trustee," Arthur said sourly. "I suppose you want me to sign."

"What I want… is of no consequence," Thursday said slowly. "This Spirit Eater is between you and Saturday, and not between you and me. Though it would behoove you to think careful about what you will do. Is your equipment that you are currently holding satisfactory?"

Arthur blinked at the sudden shift in gears. "Um, yes. It is."

"Good. Fetch the others, Lieutenant, and prepare yourself. We are going to tread the Improbable Stair."

* * *

The others were Quicksilver, Sable, Gluepot, Yellowbristle, Awning, Jazebeth, Halfcut, Fineold, Ermine, and Gold. Gold was the one who had been looking far too optimistic; he thought volunteering would get him a promotion.

"I want to be general," he confided to Arthur.

"Everyone!" Thursday called. "Hold on to each other's belts, and do not let go! We are about to enter the Stair, and we might come across landings. If that is the case, do not let go! I shall promptly get us back onto the Stair until we reach the Spike. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they cried.

"It may help to close your eyes," Thursday added. "Lieutenant Penhaligon, I want you to lead the line, then Private Turquoise-Blue."

Arthur nodded, and grabbed Sir Thursday's belt, holding on tightly. The other Piper's Children lined up behind him, and Thursday surveyed them. "Ready?"

"Ready, sir!"

Thursday drew a sword that Arthur hadn't seen him carry before, and the sound of it scratching crude steps on the wall resonated within him. He instantly knew it to be the Fourth Key, and part of him was almost beginning to call out the incantation that would make it his. He wanted it, his skin tingling for it, and Arthur wondered if that was normal. _Can you get addicted to the Keys? _He wondered. _Maybe that's what happened to the Trustees…_

"Hold on!" Thursday roared, jumping at the wall and the picture of the stairs.

Arthur gave a gasp as Thursday seemed to melt right into it, and screwed his eyes shut instinctively. He forced himself to open them a moment later, telling himself to be wary. _Sir Thursday might try something, but he seems really willing to help me so long as it's not against any of his orders… I can't figure out what to make of him. He's really unpredictable, I mean, I haven't seen Marshall Dawn once since…_

He pushed the thought out of his mind, noticing the Stair around him. The last time Arthur had traveled the Stair, with Suzy, he'd been blindly rushing through it, but it had been a long, straight climb of steps. Now, it was gently wound into a spiraling corkscrew, the fluid colors rushing past beneath his feet. It gave him a sense of disorientation, so he looked behind. Everyone seemed to have made it onto the Stair, and most had their eyes shut. Suzy grinned, and Gold, right behind her, winked.

Arthur grinned back and then turned his gaze forward. Thursday had a look of pure concentration on his face, and Arthur remembered how difficult it had been for him to drag just Suzy along. There was no way Thursday could do anything carrying so many people onto the Stair; he was having a hard enough time to just get them forward.

Then, with a loud exhale of breath, Thursday lurched forward, and all of them tumbled off the Stair and back into the House, the greenish moon of the Great Maze above them, giving everyone a pallid glow. Arthur sighed, relieved, and frowned. There was a whirring sound, pervading into him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable.

"Let… go," Thursday panted, raising the Key. Arthur let go, and Thursday pointed to a large object several yards away. "That's… it."

Arthur realized they were on a scaffolding of some sort built to encircle the top of the object, which was rotating so quickly it must have been the source of the noise.

"Take positions!" Thursday shouted, drawing near to it. With a mighty growl, he slashed at it, and the Key grew momentarily brighter as it struck the object.

A large swathe of it flew off and hit a camp below, scattering away some New Nithling soldiers.

"They'll be upon us in a moment!" Thursday cried. "Be prepared! Lieutenant, you give the orders; I must concentrate!"

"Um, position, like he said!" Arthur shouted. "Er, Quicksilver, you take up the right, and have some with you… Turquoise-Blue, Gold, you take the left… Yeah, that's right. Ah, yeah. Just… be ready."

Sable and Gluepot rolled their eyes, clearly noticing his incompetence and complete lack of knowledge about what to do, but didn't say anything.

Arthur sidled up to Sir Thursday. "Sir, I don't mean to bother you, but… the pocket…"

Thursday didn't answer for a moment. He was still cutting at it, and though the Spike didn't change noticeably in size, at least the pieces of Nothing that fell off landed on the Nithling soldiers and not the Piper's Children assembled. Then he said, "Reach into my left pocket and cast it in."

Arthur said, "Yes, sir." Thursday's pocket, it turned out, was very, very big. In fact, it was probably trans-dimensional, as Arthur touched a cat pelt. That freaked him out a bit- what would Thursday want with a cat pelt? But he found the pocket and pulled it out triumphantly, then threw it up and into the core of the Spike.

The Spike fizzed, and the whirring became faster and frenzied.

"Impossible. The… pocket is…" Thursday mumbled, then cried, "Everybody down! This thing is going to blow!"

The noise rose to a high-pitched whine that made Arthur wince, but he crouched low anyway. _Maybe I should run… this is too close to the Spike, it's going to swallow me up. I bet Thursday wanted me to die on this suicide mission, I know it…_

Thursday shouted something, but Arthur couldn't hear him over the frantic drone of the Spike. Then Thursday was pushing him out of the way, covering Arthur with his body as if the Denizen was a shield for the boy.

A low rumbling sounded, and the Spike blew.

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes tentatively. Thursday was sprawled over him, and the Denizen had taken the brunt of the damage. Arthur's cheek burned, and he wondered if some Nothing had scalded it, but Thursday was very still. Arthur would have thought him dead, but he was breathing heavily. Blue blood covered at least half his body, and he couldn't see Thursday's left arm, though it may have just been the angle. His right hand clutched the Key, his hand completely misshapen and doused with blood.

"Sir!" Arthur gasped. He couldn't believe Thursday had jumped in front of the blast to protect him. _Why would he do that? _"Sir!"

Thursday's eyelids fluttered weakly. "Lieutenant… are the others… all right?"

Arthur stood. They were all nursing wounds, and some of them were missing limbs. It was horrifying, to see them splotched with blood that neither red nor blue, but in-between, and hear them crying and wailing for their parents, or bosses, or death.

"They're… alive," Arthur answered, "but I don't think they would say they're all right, sir."

"I did not see that coming," Thursday groaned.

"Neither did I," Arthur said.

Thursday propped himself up on one elbow, and Arthur could tell that took a gargantuan effort. He followed Thursday's gaze, and noticed the tightening of his lips, the Denizen's scowl forming. "No."

"What is it, sir?"

A figure was striding out of the tents of the camp below, looking up at them. Arthur couldn't see much of his face from the distance that separated them, but it seemed to reflect the light of the moon, the light bouncing back as if it had hit a silver surface.

"Not him," Thursday bemoaned. "Curses!"

"Who is it, sir?"

"The... Piper," Thursday said, every word sounding like it was painful.

There was silence as Thursday and Arthur looked down at the man below them, who was raising an object to his lips. From his posture, Arthur thought he looked amused, and he could almost imagine the man winking in mockery.

There was silence.

And then there was sound.


	8. Chapter 8- The Piper and the Rightful

CHAPTER EIGHT- THE PIPER AND THE RIGHTFUL HEIR

"Key… heal," Thursday murmured, raising his misshapen hand to lift the sword. It had shrunken into a small, near-weightless dagger that was easy for him to wield in his current state. It glowed brightly for a moment, and the music wavered as the Piper stopped to observe the goings-on.

"Why are you so hurt?" Arthur asked. "I thought the Key would protect you from harm."

"Nothing… is always touchy," Thursday replied, groaning a bit as a soft shine enveloped his body, and Arthur made a face as he saw the skin stitch itself back together. "The Key did protect me, to a very large degree. That should've killed me, or returned me to the Void, which is the…"

"Same thing," Arthur finished.

The music resumed, and Arthur cocked his head to the side, listening. It was the most ethereal, beautiful melody he had ever heard, alluring harmonies somehow woven into the threads of sound. It made him want to laugh and cry and dance and collapse all at once, and it put a smile on his face. "This is so nice," he breathed.

Thursday frowned, standing and wiping some blood away from his face. The wounds were healed now, thanks to the Key, but it hadn't bothered cleaning away the bloodstains. "The Piper…"

Arthur's smile melted into oblivion. He recognized the look that was crawling over Thursday, the posture that his body was straightening into. It was the rage that had possessed him before, and there was no one there to stop the Day from falling into his frenzy. As if it too understood the anger radiating out of the Trustee, the Key elongated back into its long, heavy broadsword form, the glint of the moonlight making it seem very, very sharp indeed.

"Traitors…" he hissed.

Arthur looked around. All of the Piper's Children were frozen, as if time had stopped ticking for them. Suzy was still clutching her shoulder with a look of concern, Sable and Jazebeth's mouths were stuck in a twisted scream of agony, and Quicksilver was cemented in the act of tying a bandage around her left arm, an end of it still between her teeth.

"Traitors, all of them," Thursday continued. "All I asked… though I suppose I accomplished my mission in the end. Lieutenant, I'll take half. You take those on the right."

"Er, take them, sir?" Arthur asked, hand tightening around the hilt of his tulwar. His face stung badly, and a wind was blowing over the raw skin. He almost wanted to ask Thursday to use the Key to heal him too, but then remembered that would contaminate him, take him farther from the humanity he so desired.

_Dame Primus was right, _Arthur thought sourly. _She said it was a weakness, and now Saturday's exploiting it. I hope she doesn't hurt my family now that I've destroyed the Spirit Eater. What if she kills them?_

"Execute them, of course," Thursday growled, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts.

"Execute them?" he cried.

"The Piper would use them as additions to his troops, as our enemies. They are no longer allies, and no longer your friends. They are slaves to the Pipe."

Suddenly, the gorgeous music sounded like the ugliest, strident grackle-squawk that ever attacked Arthur's ears, and it filled him with rage as well, but for an entirely different reason.

Thursday strode to Gluepot and, with a guttural yell, hacked off the boy's head.

Arthur closed his eyes at the last second, opening them quickly again as Thursday turned to attack Quicksilver.

"Stop!" he shouted, and flung himself at Thursday's sleeve. The Day snarled and batted him away as if he were a fly. Arthur landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he sat up, coughing for air. It passed quickly, however, and much faster than it would've in the Realms, where his asthma would have made it far more difficult. He scrambled to his feet, and dashed between the Key and Quicksilver.

"Stop it, sir!" Arthur yelled.

"Get out of the way," Thursday ordered through gritted teeth.

"No."

"You are disobeying a direct order."

"No!"

_Arthur! It's me, the Will! Get Thursday angry, and I'll help you. It will distract him, it-_

"MOVE, fool!"

"No! That is not a proper order, sir!" Arthur shouted back, as loudly as he could.

The music lulled again, and the Piper's Children all collapsed, as if under a spell of deep sleep. Arthur and Thursday turned to look at the lone caped figure, clapping. The sound was slightly muffled since he was still holding his Pipe, but it was clearly condescending, and it infuriated both of them.

"What a splendid farce," the Piper said. His long, black hair fell into his face and into his eyes, though Arthur saw only pits of darkness behind the holes of the mask, not a sign of color or life. The mask was a brilliant silver and gold, mixed into an intricate gilded pattern that rivaled the work of Grim Tuesday, and his red cape was a sanguine hue of fresh mortal blood, which was, to Arthur, slightly disturbing. "Trying to save your comrades. How honorable."

"Not that you would know anything of honor," Thursday snarled.

"I am not speaking to you, toy soldier," the Piper said coolly. "Arthur Penhaligon, is it? I have heard talk of you. You are the Rightful Heir, are you not?"

"Er, yes. Why? Is this a trick question?"

"Actually, yes," the Piper replied. "I am the Architect's son, and thus Her true Heir."

"Don't make me laugh!" Thursday said. "You? If being Her son was all that mattered, it'd be Sunday. He's the oldest, after all. Someone upset the Will skipped over them?"

"It did not, as you put it, _skip over_ me," the Piper retorted. "I am the Rightful Heir it speaks of! Look at the soldiers I have created, just like the mortals She brought about. You Denizens have never come close to creating such life. I rival Her in creativity, in style, and in elegance."

"Then you're blind," Thursday said, "and clearly haven't taken a good look at your troops."

"My quarrel is not with you, Denizen. Arthur, give me the Keys now, and I shall let you live."

"I don't have them with me," Arthur admitted. "Dame Primus- that is, the Will, Parts One through Three- is my Steward."

"But surely that is simply a matter of paperwork, to transfer the Keys to me," the Piper shrugged.

Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it. It was tempting, he had to admit. The Piper wasn't as corrupt as the Trustees, and that would allow him to go home. Someone else could get rid of the Morrow Days, and the House and its mismanagement for millennia could be someone else's problem. He'd go home, still more human than Denizen.

_But that's just like giving in to Saturday, _Arthur thought, _and I don't know if he'll do any better than her and Lord Sunday. For all I know, he'd be WORSE than the Morrow Days._

"Would you fix the problems of the House?" Arthur asked.

"You can't be contemplating this!" Thursday exclaimed.

"I would rule as I see fit," the Piper sniffed, ignoring him.

"And you won't interfere in the Realms?"

"Ah, interference." The Piper chuckled. "Funny little fact- my mother the Architect did interfere. Quite often, actually. Her only issue was if someone else did. So as she did, so shall I."

"Interference is not interference when it's the Architect," growled Thursday.

"Oh, how quick you are to defend Her. Were you this quick to attack Her Will?" the Piper shot back. "I am Her son. It is not interference if I commit it as well. So as she did, so shall I."

"So, yes," Arthur clarified.

"Basically, I'll do what I feel like," the Piper said, "as I wish in the House and the Realms."

"So you don't care about humans or Denizens or the Original Law," Arthur said.

"No more than anyone else around here," the Piper shrugged, "and unlike them, I'm actually honest about it. That counts as a bonus, don't you think?"

"No, it doesn't!" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you the Keys, though I would be honored to fight alongside you. If you have a problem with Lord Sunday or Superior Saturday…"

The Piper nodded, as if expecting this response all along. "A pity. Ah, well. I shall play at your funeral, Arthur, to commend your bravery, foolish it may be. You deserve no less. It'd be much more than what I'd do for the Trustees, if I even allow them funerals at all."

The Piper smoothly drew a slender rapier that had been resting against his hip. He turned it, twisting the blade so that the moonlight was caught and gleamed against the tempered steel. It was transfixing, hypnotizing.

The Piper darted forward, arm snapping the blade straight at Arthur.

Arthur ducked with a yelp, turning and shifting his weight to avoid the deadly length of sharpened metal. The sword grazed the cheek opposite his Nothing-wounded one, painting a thin line of blood on the canvas of his skin.

His face hurting, Arthur drew his lightning-charged tulwar and lifted his buckler in a defensive maneuver. The Piper struck again, and Arthur's sword came hurtling to meet it, crackling with electricity and heat. A deafening screech of metal on metal, steel scraping against steel with a low rumbling of thunder, rang in the air as the two combatants were poised in a lethal waltz, their dance a struggle of murder. Breaking the warring elegance of the frozen swords crossed in a shining x, Arthur rammed his buckler against the Piper's chest.

The Piper took only one step back, barely fazed, but that was enough. Arthur bounded away backwards to a safer distance, out of reach of the Piper's rapier, albeit temporarily. He couldn't see Thursday, but this barely registered as Arthur tightened his grip on the hilt of his tulwar, changed his stance to have a better footing, and raised his now-dented buckler to protect his chest. _He's much stronger and faster than I am, _Arthur thought, _and I can't push my luck. Can I outsmart him, I wonder? Let me make the first move…_

"If you wanted to dance, mortal boy, save us the trouble and say so!" the Piper jeered. "I'd just play my Pipe and avoid this foolish twinkle-toeing about!" He whirled his weapon in a show-off manner, as if to intimidate the boy. It was working.

Arthur's heart wouldn't settle, trying to break out of the confines of his chest. He couldn't fight the Piper- he was a Denizen! Where was Thursday?

The Piper chuckled, a strange, booming sound that wasn't at all muffled by the mask, and he strode forward. His laugh stopped and changed into a scream as he flipped head over heels and rotated slowly in the air, surrounded by an orb of glowing light. Then he waved his arms frantically as the orb moved and dropped him over the scaffolding.

"Impale yourself when you land, fool," Thursday spat, drawing close to Arthur. "You should've moved; I couldn't get a good killing shot at him with you in front of me."

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, no matter. It was a good tactic, Lieutenant. I was able to use the Key with the time you'd bought." Thursday shifted the large broadsword. "Well, let's go."

"Where, sir?"

"Back to the Citadel. Grab my belt, and let's go."

"But- the others-"

"Consider them casualties. They can't be carried and they can't hold on, so they'd fall off the Stair."

"We can't just leave them!" Arthur protested.

"Why not?"

"They're people!"

"So're we," Thursday said, "and we'll share a gruesome fate if we stay much longer. He'll reach us soon. We need to get back to the Citadel and prepare for an assault. Stop wasting time, Lieutenant! Grab my belt- that's an order!"

Arthur hesitated. He couldn't, in good conscience, leave all of the Piper's Children behind, but he remembered very well the consequences of disobeying an order from Sir Thursday. He was lucky the Piper had come along to stop Thursday's rage when Arthur had refused to execute- no, brutally murder- the Piper's Children. He didn't want to make the Day angry.

Or did he?

The Will had spoken to him, told him to make Sir Thursday mad…

"I-"

The rest of his words were drowned in a pure, single sustained note somewhere below them. Slowly, the Piper's Children all stood, waking and gazing at their wounds.

"It doesn't hurt anymore!" Suzy exclaimed, staring at a long gash in her forearm and wiggling her fingers. Then her eyes widened as her hand jerked to her sword and pulled it out, the other children copying the motion. Simultaneously, they began to march towards Arthur and Thursday. "Run!" Suzy screamed. "Blimey, it's like we're puppets!"

Arthur just stood there with his mouth hanging open like some sort of fish.

Something pulled him backwards, and Arthur narrowly missed Quicksilver's thrust. A vein stood out against her neck, eyes wide, and she was red in the face, probably straining to disobey the music's spell-bound commands. "Run, idiot!" she managed to say, though it seemed taxing.

Thursday tightened his grip around Arthur's arm. It hurt, but all Arthur did was shut his mouth as the Day leaped into the air, dragging the boy along beside him. They landed not on the scaffolding but the white marble of the Stair.

"See what I mean?" he roared. "But no! You're the _Rightful Heir. _You have greater understanding than a Trustee! You and the Marshalls should start a 'We Know Better than Sir Thursday Club!'"

Arthur kept quiet, and Thursday lapsed into silence. For the first time, Arthur was aware the Stair gave out its own little hum, the Fourth Key in Thursday's hand singing in harmony to it, the two voices eerie in the pulsing, marble world. It was similar to the Piper's melodies, but softer, quieter, and- to him- more powerful. It struck him with a wave of nostalgia, reminding him of- what, exactly? He didn't know, but he thought maybe he'd heard this music before, not on the Stair, but some half-shrouded memory hidden in the back of his mind, nearly grasped but slipping away.

Laughter. He almost recognized it.

"What was that?" Arthur asked, voice dropped to a whisper.

"What was what?" Sir Thursday said. His voice was loud and ungainly compared to the soft music of the Stair.

"The laughter," Arthur answered, "and the music."

"There is no music," Thursday replied, frowning.

"I hear it, though. And I heard a laugh." Arthur cocked his head to the side. He could hear it again, gentle and bell-like, chiming and sweet.

Was he hearing it now, on the Stair, or was it a phantom from a lost memory?

* * *

**A/N: More coming soon! Please review if you like it! Just a quick 'Great' is fine. And if you hated it, I wouldn't mind a quick 'Whatever.' Next ch. will diverge from canon even more. **


	9. Chapter 9- Elevator

CHAPTER NINE- ELEVATOR

The Stair forcibly ejected them, and they fell, tumbling, onto a plush rug. Sir Thursday stood first, and Arthur scrambled to his feet after him. The room had a window that admitted low, green moonlight, so it must have been in the Maze somewhere.

"Not where I wanted to be, but close enough," Thursday muttered. "The Council Room is only several hallways down, though this is a most embarrassing landing."

"Where are we, sir?" Arthur asked. The room looked only a little different from his own, save a green Borderer's uniform laid across the bed, and a photo of the smiling Marshalls.

"Marshall Dawn's bedroom," Sir Thursday answered, and the slightest tinge of a pink blush crept across his cheeks.

"Have you been here before?"

"Once. I was checking up on her- she was injured, you see. She didn't even know I was there. It is not worth discussing."

"If this is Marshall Dawn's bedroom, where's Marshall Dawn?" Arthur said.

Sir Thursday frowned, and in this silence Arthur became aware of all the noise- guns going off, cannon booms, a rat-a-tat-tat of bullets and shrapnel. The battle had begun.

"I must see to the battle at once," Thursday said. "We are short on Nothing-powder and ammunition; it may take great and risky tactics to save our sorry hides." The Key in his hand somehow gained a sheath, which he buckled to his belt. "Come on, Lieutenant."

They exited the room, Thursday sighing as Marshall Noon was right outside. He raised an eyebrow, amused.

"What are you doing here?" Thursday asked.

"I was on my way to the Council Room," Noon answered. "I assume that's what you were doing, sir?"

"Do not speak of this to anyone," Thursday hissed, "especially Dawn."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Noon said.

"Precisely, my good man. Where is she?"

"On the southwest bastion, which has one of the few remaining working cannons."

"Bring her back!" Thursday snapped. "She can't be out there in her state!"

Noon's eyelid twitched. "That's what I said. She doesn't listen."

"Tell her it's an order!"

"I will," Noon said, "but she might ignore it. She tends to do that."

Thursday gritted his teeth. "Don't remind me."

Then he began walking again, and Arthur followed. A scant moment later, they burst into the Council Room, where Marshall Dusk was speaking with some scarlet-clad Denizens of the Regiment. When Thursday entered, everyone stood and saluted.

"As you were," he said. "I have destroyed the Spike."

The Denizens cheered, pumping their fists into the air. Arthur could understand their relief- if the tiles stopped moving, they were all pretty much screwed.

"But," Thursday continued once the cheering had died down, "the Piper is leading the New Nithlings."

This was met with stunned silence.

"Where are the Piper's Children from earlier?" Thursday demanded. "Have they left?"

"Half are with Marshall Dawn on the southwest bastion," a colonel replied, "and the rest are at the northeast bastion."

"Fetch them now, and keep them under lock and key!" Thursday snapped. "I cannot have the Piper destroy my troops from within."

"Yes, sir!"

"You don't want to execute them?" Arthur asked. He didn't approve of them being locked up either, but it was better than the Day outright killing them, and he was hesitant to breach the subject again.

Thursday glared at him. "Now that I am no longer so… irrationally wrathful… I see that is not a wise path. You would not let it be, anyway, and I don't need you on my list of concerns as well."

_Why would I be a concern? _Arthur wondered. _Unless he is worried that I could somehow free the Will. He must know that if he's too angry, the Will can escape. So _should _I make him angry?_

His thoughts were interrupted by some voices coming from beyond the wall.

"-put me down, you're being ridiculous!"

"Stop making a scene."

"I am not making a scene! Put me down now and let me go, you ba-"

"Don't call me that, I'm your brother."

"PUT ME DOWN!"

The door opened, and Marshall Noon dumped Marshall Dawn onto the floor. "I put you down," he said.

She stood and gave him a look with as much venom as possible for a Denizen. She had a bandage on her left cheek and a black eye, but other than that, there was no sign of the beating Sir Thursday had given her- until Arthur noticed she was slightly unsteady on her feet, and a lot paler than usual.

"Ah, there you are, Dawn," said Thursday with a cheery tone. "I was worried."

Dawn didn't say anything, and Arthur noticed Thursday's gaze soften.

"Are you all right?" he added.

Dawn nodded, not looking at him and staring at the floor as if it was immensely interesting.

"Ah, anyway!" Thursday addressed everyone assembled. "Tell me the situation!"

Immediately, at least fifteen Denizens began to spout off facts and grievances at once.

"We have little to no powder-"

"We're outnumbered-"

"We'll have to last until sunset tomorrow, which is forever-"

A telephone rang.

Thursday scowled, hand closing on air, but by the time he brought it to his ear, he was holding an earpiece, his other hand bringing up a mouthpiece to his ear. "Yes?" His scowl deepened at the booming voice that replied.

"SIR THURSDAY! IS LORD ARTHUR THERE?"

Arthur frowned as well. It was Dame Primus.

"He can hear you," Thursday growled.

"I HAVE SENT AMMUNITION AND POWDER, AS WELL AS SOME VOLUNTEERS. I DO NOT APPROVE, BUT AS A STEWARD I MUST-"

Thursday interrupted, "Thank you, Dame Primus."

"We really are grateful," added Marshall Dawn.

"Thanks!" Arthur said. He had been quite sure that she would've refused.

"Hmph," said Dame Primus. "WE WILL SEE. I WILL BE ON THE NEXT ELEVATOR."

The phone disappeared.

"Now," Thursday said, "someone call the Upper House and request that we be able to call up reservists. We have need of it- this is just one battle in a long war, and we will need all the hands possible."

"I doubt the Upper House will listen," Dusk said.

"Probably," Thursday agreed, "but it can't hurt to try."

Dusk nodded.

"And you," Thursday said, turning to Arthur. "We need to keep you someplace safe and out of the way."

Arthur also nodded. He wasn't eager to fight, though he did feel a little bad about hiding while everyone else was out risking their lives.

"Where is 'safe and out of the way'?" Dawn asked.

"That's what I called you here for." Thursday turned to her. "Marshall Dawn, take Lieutenant Penhaligon and retreat via any elevator in the Citadel. I suggest you go quickly- the Upper House being the largest nitwits in the Universe, they may soon cut off elevators to quarantine us. I suppose they would, if we lose the battle. That is the course of action I would take, if I were them, after all."

"Sir, I must protest," she said. "Other than you, I am one of the highest-ranking Denizens in the Maze, not even counting House precedence. I can't just leave everyone and run with my tail between my legs like some sort of coward!"

"I am ordering you."

"And I'm begging you," she replied. "Surely there is some alternative!"

Low, so that Arthur could barely hear, Thursday said, "Please." Then he added another word that was musical and soft and made Arthur's skin tingle with warmth.

Dawn looked like she was about to cry. "But- Noon and Dusk- and you- and every-"

Sir Thursday repeated the phrase. "Please." And then that wonderful word.

Dawn took Arthur's hand and yanked him out of the Council Room, her face twisted in a strange emotion.

"What did he say?" Arthur asked.

"My name."

Silence fell. Then Arthur ventured, "What is your name?"

Dawn paused, and he could tell she was wondering whether or not she should tell him. Then she whispered it again, and though Arthur couldn't comprehend it, he understood what it did to him. Every single word of the Architect did something- usually painful and excruciating- but names were different.

Names were beautiful.

"What about Sir Thursday? Does he have a name?"

"That's for him to tell you," Dawn said. A beam of light shot in front of her, and an elevator door burst open. "In you go."

Lightly, she pushed Arthur towards the elevator.

Dawn gestured to the large panel of buttons. "I suggest only picking the ones lower than your waist," she said. "Any higher and you'll be entering… well, parts of the House that may not like you."

In other words, enemy territory.

Then she stepped out of the elevator just as the doors began to close.

"Wha- Dawn!" Arthur cried. "Come back! Sir Thursday said-"

"I know what he said," she replied, "I know what he believes is right, and I know why. He truly is a noble Denizen, Arthur."

Arthur understood. Sir Thursday thought he would lose- the Citadel would be destroyed or taken, and the Great Maze forever cut off, even if Dame Primus came. Sir Thursday was trying to get them to safety, because for some reason he valued both Arthur and Marshall Dawn's lives.

She smiled ruefully, and the doors slammed shut.

Arthur slumped against the door of the elevator. Dame Primus was coming to help. Dawn was going back. Sir Thursday was fighting against terrible odds.

And he was running away.

He hadn't pressed any buttons yet. It wasn't too late. All he had to do was press the one that would open the doors again, run through and tell Sir Thursday he would stand his ground, he wasn't afraid, and that he would fight. He would do the House proud. He'd earn himself glory like Dame Primus had told him to.

Except that he knew there was no way he could. He wasn't asthmatic anymore, but his asthma had caused him to not be as strong of an athlete as others. Arthur had only spent a couple days at his new school and could immediately come up with a list of boys who'd be far better suited to this situation than him. Not only that, he _was _afraid. He didn't know if he could fight, if he could stand his ground.

"I'm only twelve," he whispered to himself. "I'm only twelve. I'm just a normal boy. Why… why couldn't the Will pick an adult Rightful Heir? Or someone else. I wish someone else was the Rightful Heir!"

He bit his lip. No, he didn't. If someone else was the Rightful Heir, he'd be _dead_.

Arthur wanted to cry, but he restrained himself. He was running away…

No, no, he wasn't.

Arthur stood and pressed the button that would open the doors, surprisingly having the same image as on elevators back home. The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Arthur jumped out and tore down the hallways, outside and along one of the paths that connected the bastions.

"What are you doing here?!" exclaimed Dusk.

"Where's Thursday?" Arthur demanded.

"Uh, on the ramparts. Why?"

"I'm fighting."

Dusk frowned. "Wait- no! Thursday told you to get out of here! You and Dawn? Sheesh!"

"You Denizens rub off on me," Arthur shrugged.

Dusk smirked. "Hopefully not just our stubbornness, but our prowess too."

Arthur grinned back. "Hopefully."

"You know what might happen to you?"

"I'm on bonus time anyway," Arthur said. "If I die here now, then I've lived longer than I was supposed to."

Dusk didn't comment, but he had a puzzled look on his face. Together, they turned to face the enemy, who were now nearly upon them.

"Are you ready?" Dusk asked.

"No," Arthur answered truthfully.

"Even after millions of years, neither am I," Dusk admitted. "Only a monster would be ready."

* * *

A/N: Another short chapter! That means the next one... is long! Hope you liked it.


	10. Chapter 10- Battle

A/N: Here it is, ch. 10!

I feel compelled to warn you there is some blood, but it's not overly graphic or full of gore.

* * *

CHAPTER TEN- BATTLE

Screams.

Shouts.

Wails.

Booms of cannons that faded as powder was burned away.

Clashes of metal, screeching of steel.

Arthur lost awareness, letting his body move of its own accord. He was operating solely on instincts as wave after wave of Nithlings crawled, lumbered, and ran at him. He didn't pause to think about the stiffness in his muscles, the aches that were beginning to form. He didn't contemplate how many were left to kill, how many were killed already. All he did was move.

His arm snapped up to block attacks as if it was second nature. His sword found its mark time and time again. His feet moved to dodge thrusts that should've impaled him in a strange dance that he would've found strangely ironic if he had thought about it.

Now was not the time for thinking. Now was the time for action.

He was like a robot, letting his instincts do all the work, activating the memories stored in his muscles that Corporal Gunsworth had drilled into him, but even they were not infallible. Against a Nithling with a particularly large and nasty-looking lance, Arthur raised his buckler a moment too late, the spear's point digging into his shoulder savagely.

Arthur let out a scream, his vision swimming for a moment at the intense, white-hot pain. Blood trickled down his arm, and the Nithling grunted in confusion as he saw the dark, sanguine red instead of the bluish-red hybrid he'd been expecting. Arthur took advantage of this momentary lapse and swung his sword with all his might, decapitating the Nithling with one stroke, feeling brutal satisfaction as the body crumpled and he yanked the lance out of his shoulder, pressing his fingers against the warm wound to staunch the bleeding.

Then his awareness came back, and he realized exactly what he'd done. Not only that Nithling, but dozens. He was a killer.

_But so are they. This is was war is, Arthur. Killers fighting killers, _Arthur realized, and slumped against a pillar wearily. He knew he should probably head to the infirmary or try bandaging his wound at the very least, but the buckler suddenly felt very, very heavy, and the sword too wickedly burdensome. Had it been only that afternoon he'd been with Darre, Perseus, and the others on the bastion, when fighting had seemed so distant?

"I'm wounded!" shouted Arthur.

The soldier several yards away stabbed a Nithling in the heart. The creature twisted and then fell still, limp. The soldier drew his sword out of the thing's chest and spared only a glance at Arthur. The soldier himself had blue trickling down his face and half his torso, but he was a Denizen, and he knew Arthur was a mortal- and a child, at that. "I'll hold them!" he called back.

The moon was in its climax position now, with no cloud at all in the ceilinged sky, so both the Denizens and the Nithlings could see quite well. Arthur, on the other hand, didn't have the best night-vision, and he was very glad for the lights hung in intervals as he hobbled along, wincing as every step sent pangs to his shoulder. His face was hurting again, raw from his wounds at the Spike's destruction, and the bitter wind blowing was not helping. All it did was irritate him and contort the lantern and torches' flames, disfiguring the leaping shadows that lunged at him as he walked past.

It didn't take long to realize he was hopelessly lost. He was used to the Citadel, but not in the dark, and not when there was a chance an enemy could attack at any moment. Breathing heavily, Arthur stopped and leaned against yet another pillar. Taking a deep breath, he ripped the sleeve of his wounded arm, then used his teeth to help him bandage the wound, tying the knot just as he heard a large explosion sound in the distance.

_I hope that was our cannons, and someone found some spare Nothing-powder, _Arthur thought wearily. He checked his bandage over, a primitive binding that he knew he'd have to get properly fixed later if he wanted his arm to heal properly.

_Now I have to go back… _he told himself. _I have to go back. Back into the fighting, back in… and I volunteered to be here… _For the second time that day, he choked back a sob. _No, be strong, Arthur. You can do this. I can do this!_

_ No, I can't! _said the far more sensible part of his mind, but Arthur pushed it out. In war, being sensible was not always wanted.

He jumped as something touched his back, and he whipped around, throwing his sword in a wild gesture that left him wide open, but he didn't care.

"Whoa, Arthur!" said a familiar voice, and caught his wrist. "It's just me, mate."

Arthur relaxed. Sunscorch, now known as Wednesday's Noon.

Help.

"So that _was_ our cannons," Arthur mused. Dame Primus must've brought Nothing powder.

"Yup," Sunscorch agreed heartily. "You look like you've been in the- oh, right. Well, no worries. Dame Primus is here with several thousand volunteers- pretty much everyone who's ever fought a Nithling, and a couple who haven't but say they have. Who's complaining, though? Seems you need whatever you'll get."

Arthur nodded. "Dame Primus is here?"

"With all three Keys," Sunscorch replied, leading Arthur to the railing so he could see. Sure enough, there was the giant, seven-foot-tall, imposing, scary woman he didn't know well enough at all.

She was frightening. With one motion, she wiped out the front rank of the advancing Nithlings, the first Key glistening in the pallid moonlight. Then she clapped her hands together, a wave of sound and air striking the next row of enemies. Almost carelessly, she raised the trident of the Third Key, and all the fluid left the Nithling's bodies. The Key glowed brightly for a moment, and the fluid hardened into glistening spears of ice that hurtled and attacked even more.

It occurred to Arthur that this was what using the Keys truly meant. That one day, once he grew up and came of age, he would have such power in his hands, would be able to kill hundreds as easily as knocking over rows of dominoes.

Another figure drew up to Dame Primus. She stopped for a moment, exchanging some sort of conversation with him. Then they both nodded and took up their weapons. Arthur's eyes widened as he realized it was Sir Thursday. One swipe of the Fourth Key and even more of the enemy soldiers fell, the one motion multiplied a thousand times over. It was as if a giant had taken a large blade and swept it across the field in a fit of wrath. It was the first time Arthur had seen the Fourth Key used beyond healing, and he immediately realized that it was far more suited to combat than the others.

Thursday smashed the Key into the ground, and the earth rippled as if it was a pond someone had tossed a pebble into. Nithlings lost their balance and fell over, and then were swallowed by the ground's hungry maw, opening to devour them.

A Nithling crept up behind him and would have planted a power spear into Thursday's back, but Dame Primus leapt over and skewered the soldier upon the Third Key's three prongs or tines or whatever. Arthur didn't care what they were called.

His mouth dropped. He was horrified. Dame Primus and Sir Thursday working together was a good thing, even if it was only temporary, as it was bound to be. What appalled him was the death, and that more enemies kept coming. Why would they keep coming? Why didn't they run? Did they _want _to die?

Ghostly music wafted up, and Arthur saw Dame Primus and the Nithlings freeze, the former out of surprise and the latter to await commands. Arthur couldn't see well enough to read her expression, but he had no doubt it was surprised.

A large orb of Nothing appeared in the sky, and the Piper strode forward, gently stepping off the Stair. He played a long, flamboyant trill as the Nothing writhed and twisted, forming into another large, long, and deadly spike.

_What would he want with that? _Arthur wondered. He repeated the question out loud.

Sunscorch shrugged. "I don't know."

Then, the Piper's notes climbed higher and higher on the musical scale before dropping down to deep bass, and the Nothing spike curdled, finally plummeting straight at Dame Primus and Sir Thursday. They both raised their Keys above them, shouting words that Arthur couldn't hear from the distance but still sent shivers through him.

It sounded as if all of time and space had broken apart.

"What happened?" Arthur cried. "What happened?" He felt dizzy, and bile rose in his throat. There was no way they could be dead. Surely not. Dame Primus was far too powerful, Thursday too strong. They had to be fine.

But Thursday had said that Nothing was touchy…

"I need to get down there!" Arthur shouted, but his vision was swimming.

Sunscorch gave him a look of concern. "What you need is someone to take a look at that wound on your shoulder."

"Dame Primus- Thursday- I have to-" Arthur didn't finish, lapsing into silence as his knees gave out underneath him. He lay there for a second before trying to get up, but couldn't manage it. "Help," he croaked.

Sunscorch helped him stand. "Arthur, you can't do this."

"But-"

"No 'but's," Sunscorch interrupted. "Let's find the doc. He could fix you up."

"Doctor Scamandros is here?" Arthur asked weakly as Sunscorch helped him walk along.

"Yes," he answered. "The doc has some knowledge that may prove useful. He's the only sorcerer not working for Saturday, at any rate. Though Saturday herself should consider helping if she doesn't want the Great Maze to fall."

Arthur thought back to his conversation with Sir Thursday. "It was Saturday who ordered the campaign change, though," Arthur said.

"Stupid. Even if she didn't know about the Piper, this many Nithlings…"

"Maybe she does want the Great Maze to fall," Arthur mused.

"Ah, politics!" Sunscorch scowled.

"Does no Denizen like politics?" Arthur asked. That was the impression he was getting.

"No, but all the ones who do are in the Upper House," Sunscorch said. "That's beside the point. Let's worry about this battle and not the later ones, eh?"

"Sure," Arthur said. "Let's find the doc as soon as possible. I have to find out what happened."

* * *

The Piper would have smiled, but no one would have seen it from behind his mask anyway.

There was no sign of old Primus and Sir Soldier. Good. With them around, his army might've lost. There wasn't much the Piper could do against _four_ Keys, even with his Pipe.

Watching the scene of desolation, he would've scowled as Primus stirred. Drat. She was the bigger problem- she had more Keys. But at least Thursday was still lifeless. He must've tried to shield her, which made absolutely no sense. Why in the House would a Trustee try to save the Will?

Probably because he realized the Will was what was keeping his soldiers alive.

Primus took one look at her fallen companion, gave him up for lost, and immediately began confronting the New Niths again. Her attacks weren't weaker than before either- if anything, they had a newer ferocity, as if she had just realized what a predicament she was in.

"You are so much like Mother," the Piper hissed, stepping close enough for her to hear him. "You look just like her. You even have that same look of indifference. How can you keep it on your face when you murder hundreds?"

Primus stopped and whirled the Trident around her head, clearing a thirty-yard radius of soldiers around her. "I am Her Will, boy," she said. "I am _the _Will. I don't harbor pity for those who get in the way of my fulfillment. You included, Little Musician."

That was what Mother called him.

"So I suppose you know who I am. Do you have Her memories?"

"Some. I suppose the rest are in the other parts of myself. Piper, dear," she said mockingly. "My, how big you've grown. Whatever happened to your face?"

_Someone pushed him into Nothing, remember? _A snake slithered away from Thursday's body and crawled up, finally coiling itself around Primus's arm.

"Oh, hello, Four," she said, not taking her eyes off the Piper.

"It's true," the Piper sighed. "Lord Sunday pushed me into Nothing."

"Whatever for?" Primus asked, idly stabbing a New Nith who'd gotten too close with the First Key.

_He and the eldest were arguing over whether or not he should free the Old One, _Four said smugly.

"Oh, I do hate it when siblings quarrel," Primus sighed, "especially over something so pointless. You couldn't have freed him anyway." There was no need to add that she existed solely for that reason- the Piper knew it.

"Well, we did argue, and he cast me into the Void!" the Piper snapped.

"That doesn't sound like him," Primus said. "He feels like he's too good for murder. If he was behind it at all, he got someone else to do it for him."

"Are you suggesting it was someone else?" the Piper snarled.

"As far as I know, you didn't get along with _any _of the Trustees. Monday found you insufferable, Tuesday thought you far too immature, Wednesday hated your Rats-"

The Piper made a snorting sound. He was aware that Duchess Wednesday had taken great lengths to try and keep the Rats out of her demesne, even drowning some herself. A terrible fate in the House, drowning. It kept one alive the longest, while in the worst agony. Luckily for his Rats, and unfortunately for her, they soon obtained a permit from the Architect herself to go wherever they wished, so she eventually had to let them go.

Though they _did_ have a fairly large amount of "accidents" in the Border Sea…

_And Thursday thinks you far too callous with life, _Four finished the list. _Of course, we don't quite know about the others too much, the other parts of us being locked up, but we seem to recall Saturday was particularly-_

"It was not Saturday!" he shouted with a ferocity that startled both Four and Primus.

Then Primus nodded. "If you are certain. I will take your word for it. Not that matters who tried to kill you all those years ago and failed miserably- now I shall end your pitiful existence myself and return you to the Void, where you are clearly meant to be."

"How can you say that about the son of your Author?" the Piper asked mockingly.

"I am not the Architect," Primus said, raising the Trident so that the base of the prongs was level with her chin. "Not only that, part of me is still locked away. It seems the part that knew love and remorse so well, Five, is still in Friday's possession. And Six, my empathy, is locked away."

"So you will feel no guilt for what you are doing?"

Primus lifted her chin haughtily. "I need not feel guilt for righteous action. Even Five and Six would agree."

"You will feel nothing, not one pang, if you kill me?"

"When," she corrected. "_When_, not _if _I kill you. You are right. Not one pang. Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

"Yes, I am." She smiled, an icy gleam in her beautiful, dark eyes. "I always am."

"Then Mother created a monster," he said, not unsheathing his rapier but preparing to bring his Pipe to his lips. By now, his soldiers had realized they didn't want to get involved in such a clash of titans, and they were back to trying to take the Citadel while the House's Denizens prayed that Primus would hurry up, get rid of him, and enter their battle again.

"Yes, She did," Primus agreed, "but it's not me. Only a beast hides his true face. Don't worry, Little Musician. You're not the only monster She's brought about. This entire House is full of filth."

"How ironic you claim your loyalty belongs to it," the Piper retorted.

"Perhaps. It is not your place to decide. Come." She beckoned with a wave of her hand.

"I'd rather you start," he said, and played one pure note.

* * *

Dame Primus knew his sorcery well. It was similar to the kind the Architect used, the kind she herself was once able to, but now Six was somewhere in the Upper House, and most of that exact knowledge of commanding the elements around her was locked up with it. But she did recognize what he would do, and she was able to react faster than anticipated because of it.

She just managed to escape the wide chasm that marred the earth where she had stood seconds ago. "A breach into the Void? Close that up, fool! Someone could get hurt."

The Piper scowled, but the chasm slammed shut with a ginormous, reverberating sound of thunder. A breach, if it got out of control, was just as much a threat to him as to her.

Primus licked her lips and dashed at the Piper, the Third Key poised to pierce his heart. Just as she knew he would, he dashed to the left.

Ever so predictable.

With her other hand, she curled her fingers into a fist and gave him an uppercut that sent him flying back several feet and nearly knocked that stupid mask off his face. He stopped to rearrange it before trying to play again, his fingers quickly dancing over the holes in a well-practiced execution of a lethal mordent.

Primus winced. "Dirty," she hissed along with Four, the newly-freed addition to herself still not yet assimilated. How could she assimilate herself when she was in the middle of a brawl? Four's skin felt hot on her own, uncomfortably so, but it paled in comparison to what felt like daggers plunging into her heart.

Of course, there weren't actually plunging daggers. The Piper was merely tricking her mind into feeling pain as if there was.

_This will be a game of wits, then, I see, _Dame Primus thought to herself. Four made a motion that resembled nodding. _I shall have to be in control of my mind, then. I must have a strong will. Ha. Strong Will? He picked the wrong opponent._

It took her a moment, but she was able to force herself to ignore the pain that was making each intake of air hurt. Eventually, her breathing eased up as she got past the mental challenge he'd put there. "Is that all you've got?" she asked. "Child's play."

He played a line of melody, quickly and efficiently.

She doubled over and gasped, spitting up golden blood that glistened with swirling type as the next attack was physical. She straightened with a feral look in her wild eyes, a scowl on her beautiful features. She was done beating around the bush.

With a ferocious cry that rent the air, she plunged the Trident towards him while, in her other hand, she hacked at him with the First Key, the Sword going towards the one thing that was keeping them at stalemate.

His Pipe.

The Piper drew his arm back to protect his precious instrument, and doing so allowed the Trident to puncture his chest and stomach. He nearly dropped to one knee but forced himself to stand, trying to bring the Pipe up to his mouth again. He was too slow, the pain of the Key's damage dulling his motions.

Primus easily plucked the Pipe from his hands and tugged the Trident out of him. He fell onto the ground, gasping, as she raised the Pipe to the sky and looked at the moonlight filtering through it. It was a beautiful instrument, made of gold and green Immaterial glass, a little Nothing fixated and contained throughout it. It had been a birthday gift from the Architect to her youngest, as the Harpoon had been to the Mariner. There was something off about it, its weight strangely light, its countenance oddly reminding her of something that she couldn't place, but she dismissed it. Even with that, the Pipe was a thing of majesty.

It was a shame it had to be destroyed. It was one of her Maker's masterpieces.

The Piper reached for it futilely as Primus brought the Third Key crashing down on it. The Pipe was too strong for the Key to completely break it, but that was not her intention. It was strong enough to crack it, and that's all she wanted.

The crack quickly grew as Nothing ate away, freed from its captivity, and soon the entire thing was no more.

"Return to the Void," Primus ordered the remaining gobbet, and it was forced to obey as a flash of the Keys sent it to its final destination.

"It's over, Piper," she said, turning to the man lying prostrate, nearly dead. "That was far too easy."

"I will… live," he breathed. "I can… heal…"

"You think I will give you the chance?" she asked.

"I'm not… finished… yet," he said, and reaching into his pocket, produced another Pipe. He grinned. "I… switched… at the last… moment. I am quite good at…. sleight of hand, you know."

Primus scowled. How had she not noticed it was a fake?

The Piper sang through his Pipe, a tune of melancholy and pain, but as he played, his golden blood stopped flowing, the wound closing itself and healing over. He stood and wiped his mouth.

"Ready for round two?"

* * *

A/N: When writing this chapter, I reached a predicament: Dame Primus's blood. I didn't recall a single chapter where the Will's blood color was revealed, so I reverted to the signs of divinity: the Architect and her sons' golden blood, since she IS the Will, after all. As for the type... well, there's type everywhere on her, so I think her blood would have some too.


	11. Chapter 11- Stand Aside- Commander

**CHAPTER ELEVEN- STEP ASIDE- COMMANDER OF THE ARMY**

Arthur found Scamandros in the interior of the Star Fort's council room, speaking quickly with some other Denizen that he dimly recognized as having some superficial sorcerous knowledge. The other Denizen was nodding, but in the absent way one does to seem like understanding when one has no idea what the other is talking about.

"Hey, doc!" Sunscorch called. "Tend to Arthur, will ya? I gotta get back out there and give those Nithlings a piece of my mind."

"Of course, Sunscorch," Scamandros nodded, and scuttled over to Arthur. "How are you, Lord Arthur?"

"Fine. It's nice to see you again," Arthur replied, removing his buckler and lying it down, then stretching his aching muscles, careful to avoid moving his wounded shoulder. "Aaaahh! I'm so stiff."

"Combat has a way of doing that," Scamandros said. "I see you are wounded. May I take a look?"

"Yes, please," Arthur said, pulling off the crude bandage he'd applied. It was already soaked through.

"Hmm, yes," Scamandros said. "The cut has entered the muscle. I assume you still want little to no magical contamination?"

"Yup," Arthur confirmed, just now realizing he'd lost his power spear somewhere. That was a shame. He had a feeling it might come useful later.

"This might sting," Scamandros warned, then dabbed something that bit into his shoulder almost as painfully as the original wound- disinfectant of a sort. Then he applied a high-tech bandage that Arthur was sure only the House would have.

"Thanks," Arthur said.

"No problem, Arthur," Scamandros dismissed. "Will you be running back into the battle?"

"I have to find out what happened to Thursday," Arthur informed him.

"Something happened to Thursday?"

Arthur turned.

Marshall Dawn helped Dusk limp into a bed, and Arthur's eyes boggled as he saw that where Dusk's left leg used to be, there was only a stump. Both of them were looking at him with an intent look of horror and fear on their faces, and worry was clearly painted on Dawn's.

There was no point lying.

"Yes. I saw the Piper drop something that looked like Nothing on him," Arthur told them.

"Show me," Dawn said, her voice barely trembling. She remained composed, but something in her eyes showed Arthur there was something between them that was more complex than simple soldier loyalty.

* * *

Dame Primus was not sure how he was lasting so long against three Keys, especially three Keys wielded by the Will.

Then again, she had to admit that she was holding back for some reason. Time and time again he was wide open, and she either avoided hitting him or didn't hit him hard enough. What was stopping her? She had no familial affection towards him. She was the Will, not his mother!

"Something wrong?" the Piper taunted.

Primus said nothing. There must be some way to get rid of him, quickly. She had three Keys, and he had all but a Pipe!

_What is wrong? _Four asked. _Don't tell me you're getting emotional._

Dame Primus pursed her lips. For a second, Four's scalding touch seemed to burn even hotter against her skin as she contemplated her next move. Justice. That was what needed to be done. She could not let her feelings- the Architect's that were projected upon her, to be more exact- get in the way. These weren't even her memories, her emotions. They were the Architect's. As close as they were, they weren't the same being.

At the current moment, in any case.

"I need make no apology for righteous action," she whispered to herself. It was much easier to say it to the Piper when her thoughts were less tumultuous, but there was no turning back now. It was either her or the Piper. There was no middle ground.

Primus took a deep breath, her eyes flashing as the Keys began to glow softly. "How would you like to die?" she asked the Piper. "I'll let you pick. Instant dissolution via Nothing, or being skewered at the end of the Third Key? Or perhaps you'd prefer a beheading by the First? There is the traditional piercing of the heart too, if you'd so wish."

"I'm not picking any," the Piper snarled. "Would you rather I play you a dirge or cut you to ribbons with my rapier?"

"What pitiful choices," Primus smirked. "I'm not one to settle for what's just offered. After all, I am so dreadfully avaricious."

"Of course you are." The Piper raised his Pipe to his lips and played again.

Primus nearly burst into crazed laughter as she easily avoided the spikes that came rumbling out of the earth towards her. He was weakening! That sorcery was nowhere near comparable to what he'd been doing earlier.

_He's probably nearly dissolved, _Four hissed, rearing up and baring its fangs. _I sense he's far weaker than usual, and now that your battle is longer than expected…_

"I see," Primus whispered. "Is this a challenge of endurance?"

_Endurance and wits. Drain his energy as quickly as possible._

"All right, then," Dame Primus said. "Round two will be a speed round." She raised the First Key and moved into the stance of a well-practiced fighter.

_"Justice will prevail!"_ she said at once with Four.

* * *

Dawn and Arthur ran out of the Citadel towards the scarred, blackened area where Sir Thursday lay. Several Denizens called for them to return, but they paid no heed. Arthur had a hard time keeping up with Dawn, even without the added weight of his buckler, which he'd left behind- it was useless to him now that his wounded arm couldn't raise it enough anyway. No New Nithlings came at them, either too busy attacking the Denizens or too wary of how close they were getting to Primus and the Piper's ongoing brawl.

Dawn skidded to a stop short of Thursday's limp, motionless form, and bit back a gasp. Thursday was nearly unrecognizable, a deep gash across his face, swelling his left eye shut. The rest of him didn't fare any better, and his grip on the Key was slick with blood, but he was breathing. Alive, but only just.

Dawn rushed right to his side and leaned over. "The Architect, Thursday! Say something!"

Thursday's eyelids fluttered, and Arthur saw he was fighting unconscious. "… Dawn…" he whispered, and then her name. Arthur smiled at the warmth it sent flooding through him, but he was uneasy. Any moment now the Piper might decide to come after him instead of Dame Primus, and even if he didn't, they were so close that their titanic clash might envelop them.

"I'm here," Dawn said, voice choked. "Sir…"

"Stop doing that," he croaked.

"Stop what?"

"Calling me 'sir.' Is Penhaligon here?"

"Arthur!" she called.

Arthur ran to his side. "Yes?"

Thursday held out the Key weakly. "I, Thursday, Trustee of the Architect, ask into whom's hands shall I place that which is entrusted to me?"

"Sir… I don't understand. You have orders."

"Orders can go to the Void if they'll kill my soldiers," Thursday said, then fell into racking coughs that brought up spurts of blue. "Besides, I'm nearly dead. I might as well do something of my own free will at least once before I die." He seemed to take it for granted that he would. "Please… hurry up."

"I, Arthur, anointed Heir to the Kingdom, do accept this Key. I claim it through blood and bone and contest, in testament, truth, and against all trouble," Arthur said, finishing the incantation. He didn't understand Thursday's change of heart, but he wouldn't protest. The Key glowed, and it flew from Thursday's grasp to the boy's.

Thursday gave a loud cry of agony.

"Heal!" Arthur cried instinctively. "Heal, be healed, don't die, heal!"

The Key flashed vividly, and Arthur remembered that he didn't want to use it, to be contaminated. But it seemed immensely selfish to let Thursday die because he wanted to remain human, even if Thursday deserved it. Arthur wasn't sure he did. As far as he could tell, Saturday and Sunday were the ones behind the breaking of the Will, and Thursday was just following orders.

Because that's what the Architect had made him to do.

"Heal, in body and mind!" Arthur repeated, more firmly, the Key bursting into brilliant iridescence that surrounded Thursday's body. When it subsided, he was sound- physically and mentally- but he seemed weaker and paler, his breaths shallower.

"It shall take me a while to recover fully," Thursday panted, sitting up. It was clear that was an obvious effort. The gash along his face had healed, leaving a long, thin scar that cut through one eye and didn't stop until it reached the base of his chin. The look somehow suited his feral yet tamed brutality, the coldness and sense of honor he had as a soldier. "Lieutenant, use my Key well. Save my- our- _your _troops."

"I will," Arthur nodded.

"You are honorable, both of you," Dawn said. "Lieutenant, I thank you from the bottom of my heart." She leaned over and kissed Arthur on the cheek, the way his mother would when he did something that made her especially happy. Then she pulled away and looked back at Thursday.

"Dawn," Thursday said, "thank you."

"For what?"

"Why haven't you left?" he asked. "Honestly. Why haven't you requested you transfer somewhere else, out of the Great Maze? I can tell you're not happy here."

"I'm a soldier, sir!" she said, sounding surprised and slightly offended at the thought. "Where would I go? _Why_ would I go?"

"I would have thought it would be difficult to be around me every day," Thursday chuckled grimly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she protested. "Every day I'm just glad you're alive." And she pulled him into a kiss. Thursday's eyes widened, but he didn't try to stop her.

Arthur turned away. He always felt awkward when people showed affection around him, whether they were his parents, other adults, teens, or immortal beings who were in the middle of a battlefield and really should know better. Then he frowned, his resolve strengthening. Without saying anything, he ran straight towards Primus and the Piper.

On his finger, glinting in the moonlight and fires of the battlefield, his ring was exactly one-half gold.

* * *

Dame Primus wasn't going for strategy. She wasn't going for creativity or power. She was going for speed and precision. Attack after attack after attack after attack she sent the Piper's way, and his motions got slower, clumsier, with every one. He wouldn't last long. He was nearly at the breaking point. All she had to do was trick him into making a mistake. One mistake, even a second's opening, was all she needed…

Something flashed through her mind, either a snippet of memory or a revelation from the Architect. _I don't like the Border Sea, Mother. It doesn't like me._

_ Don't be silly. Waves don't take likes or dislikes to people._

_ But these do. They don't like me. I don't like the water. Drowning's the worst thing that can happen to you, isn't it? And you can only drown where there's water._

She lifted the Third Key as if she was Poseidon heralding the seas, and a salty, damp wind stirred through the battlefield, tossing her hair and whipping the Piper's black locks around in a frenzy. He must have known what was coming, but he paid it no heed, taking a deep breath, and then blowing a minuet as hard as he could.

A giant wall of fire rose around him as Primus's summoned monstrous wave materialized and bore down on the lone masked figure. The fire roared brighter, blazed hotter with a rage that reflected what resided inside the Piper's own heart. The wave, in response, growled as it washed over the flaming barricade, sizzling the fire to small embers and still continuing. It completely swallowed the Piper, circling him and trapping him in a bubble of water. Some water kept running, nearly subduing Arthur, but the boy fought against it and waded through it to stand next to Primus.

Dame Primus couldn't see his mouth, but she imagined it moving in pleas for mercy and gasps for breath. The Piper feared water, and now he was surrounded by it. He could not play a sodden Pipe. His pitiful attempt was terrible. Did he really expect such a pitiful ring of coals to be able to stop her onslaught?

With a savage smile, she pinned the arm that held the Pipe to the ground, the tines of the Third Key piercing his flesh. She stepped on his other arm with her foot, pressing down with a strength that was unusual even among Denizens, as the water collapsed. The Piper gasped, a grateful intake of air that turned into a howl as his bones cracked and snapped under the pressure.

"Arthur, pick up that Pipe," she ordered.

The Piper writhed, trying to free himself, but Arthur tore it from his grasp without any difficulty. Primus didn't spare more than a glance at him. He was becoming more Denizen, she could tell- his hair was a more lustrous color, his skin free of blemishes and his eyes brighter, more vivid. Blue, like the Architect's and Her very first Denizens.

"Strike him, Arthur," Primus said. "Right in the heart with the Key."

"I can't!" the boy cried.

Primus turned to face him, making sure she wouldn't release the Piper as she did so. She glared at him, her eyes shining with an alien ferocity, glowing almost like the Keys. "Why not? It is justice. He deserves it."

Four reared up and hissed, baring its long fangs in agreement. He was paler, seemingly more faded, as if any moment now he would dissolve into the air- they had begun assimilating.

"I can't," Arthur protested. "I can't kill somebody."

"Very well." She lifted the First Key, poised for a downward strike into the Piper's heart.

The Piper said nothing, though a strange fire burned behind his mask where his eyes should have been, the unspoken challenge penetrating her, its meaning ever-so-clear. Even now her hands shook. _I mustn't let emotions get in the way now, of all times, _she thought to herself. _I am not his mother. I am wisdom, hard work, perseverance, moderation, and justice. I am all these things and more. But not his mother. He deserves it, he deserves it… it's like disciplining, in a sense…_

"No, stop!" Arthur cried, reaching out just as Primus plunged it down.

The Piper jerked, trying to avoid it, and gave one last strangled cry, then fell silent as Primus hissed, "Die, you fool."

Then she delicately pulled it out and wiped the blade against the grass to get the blood off of it as the Piper's body crumbled to dust, leaving behind naught but his mask.

Primus picked it up and handed it to Arthur. "This may prove useful to you. I sense it has several sorcerous properties that may aide you. I suggest keeping the Pipe as well. I might teach you how to play it." Then she strode away from the marred ground that served as her arena. After a moment's hesitation, Arthur followed her.

"Where are you going?" he demanded. She recognized the anger in place on his tone. Primus understood it well. She was quite wrathful herself, when needed. Unlike others, though, her anger was righteous, well-placed. Arthur's was simply childish.

"To deal with another traitor," she said.

"Don't kill Thursday too!" Arthur shouted as Primus walked towards the sitting soldier.

Dawn scrambled to her feet. "Kill? Is this the thanks you give him after he saved your life?" she demanded. "Execution?"

"He is a criminal," Primus said, her eyes strangely slitted and reptilian.

"I won't let you," she said, and drew her own sword. "You will find Thursday has committed no grievance against the Architect that was not of his nature."

"It is the nature of Denizens and humans to be fallen!" Primus snarled.

"Then why ask them to do something that is beyond their power? Why demand what cannot be done?" Dawn challenged.

Dame Primus's lip curled into an arrogant sneer. "I know you, don't I?"

_She's familiar, isn't she? Thursday's fiancé, _Four said. _Unfortunately, his wrath ruined the relationship._

"It was you!" Dawn accused, pointing a finger at the snake. "You drove him to this!"

_It's true. I may have worn his nerves thinly._

"Step aside, dear," Primus snorted. "Your pretending to have such devotion is amusing, but misplaced."

"I'm not pretending!"

"What you feel is loyalty, not love," Primus said coldly.

"What," Dawn asked, voice low and so unlike anything Arthur had heard before, "is the difference?"

"What an anomaly," Primus hissed. "Since when were soldiers so soft-hearted?"

"Soft hearts are something all soldiers need," Dawn retorted. "It's all that's between you and madness. Because that's what war is. Madness."

_I did wonder why he picked you to be his Time. I suspected there were personal reasons behind it. Lo and behold, I was right, _Four said smugly. _You should have left once your hundred years were over._

Dawn stiffened. "You too? I am a soldier. I was created to be one. Where would I go? If I don't belong here, then where?"

"You clearly don't fit anywhere if you don't understand the concept of error and punishment," Dame Primus said. "I don't like to repeat myself. Step aside now and let me take care of him."

"I won't let you," she said.

"As of now, Arthur and I control the Army," Primus said. "You are disobeying orders, _general."_

"I am a marshall."

"Not. Anymore." Dame Primus pointed the First Key at Dawn's chest. "Last time. Step aside."

Dawn scowled, stamped her foot, and remained in place. "No, you step aside. I'm not moving."

* * *

Arthur shook his head. She was doing it again- the disobeying orders. He had to admit that every time she did, he agreed with her actions. Even now.

_Especially _now.

Arthur tugged at Dame Primus's sleeve. "Dame Primus, now is not the time. We have Nithlings to deal with-"

"Where?" she demanded, sending him a glare that sent shivers down his spine and legs.

Arthur turned. All of the Nithlings were watching him, not one attacking. No, not watching him. Watching his Pipe.

A crazy thought entered Arthur's head. What if he now commanded the Nithlings as well, because he had the Pipe?

"We will deal with them," Dame Primus said, "but first, Thursday must have a trial. I shall be judge, jury, and executioner."

"That's not a trial!" Dawn protested. "That's a mockery!"

"Stop speaking for me," Thursday cut in. "I can handle myself." He laboriously stood, shaking. Dawn immediately ran to his side and allowed him to lean against her. He smiled gratefully, then turned to look at Dame Primus. "Kill me now, if that's what you want."

"No!" Dawn said. "Sir-"

"Don't call me that!" he said.

Softly, she whispered a word that resonated in the air. Thursday closed his eyes when he heard it, exhaling slowly.

"Call me that," he whispered.

"As touching as this may be," Primus said, voice high and strident, "I will get on with things." Idly, she twirled the First Key, then plunged it straight at Thursday.

Dawn's sword flew forward and intercepted it, but only for a second. The First Key cut straight through the slim rapier and continued, nearly unhindered. In that time, Dawn had shoved Thursday back, so the blade whistled over his head.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"Oh, you want to let her kill you, is that it?" Dawn replied.

Dame Primus struck Dawn across the cheek, so hard that the Denizen dropped to one knee. "Are you disobeying orders? You do know what the penalty for that is, don't you?" Dawn's gaze fell upon the Keys, and Dame Primus smirked. "Who goes first? The fallen commander or his loyal aide?"

"Arthur, do something!" Dawn cried.

Arthur shook his head to collect his thoughts. He couldn't just stand by. "Dame Primus, stop this," he said. "You're my Steward, and I'm the Rightful Heir. That means something, so you can't just go and kill-"

Dame Primus drew the First Key back, sighed, and nodded. "Yes, Arthur. But this does not end between us."

"And Marshall Dawn is staying a marshall," Arthur continued, ignoring her last sentence. "You can't demote her or kill her for telling the truth. That's no better than-" He bit his lip. He was going to say, _No better than Thursday, _but he restrained himself. He had a feeling neither Dame Primus nor Sir Thursday would appreciate being compared to each other. "… no better than tyranny," he concluded lamely. It sounded dumb and sappy even to him.

"I suppose," Primus sniffed. "Now, how shall we deal with the Piper's Army and the Children left scattered throughout the Maze?"

"May I make a suggestion?" Thursday groaned.

"Yes, do," Arthur said, before Dame Primus could get a word out.

"I'll need to get to the Council Room," he said, "and someone fetch the communications figures."

* * *

"I hope your plan works Dawn said.

"So do I," Thursday said.

It was, in essence, a relatively simple plan. Thursday had basically simply told every single head of a Fort the situation and the change of power. They were, in turn, to tell any lower-ranking platoon or troop leaders who they had the figures for. Thursday ordered all his soldiers to hold out white flags to the Nithlings, and to tell them they were free to either egress the Maze or settle in one of its abandoned villages. The captured Piper's Children were requested to be returned, without harm.

Within several hours, a Nithling dressed in a yellow and red version of a marshall's uniform arrived in front of the Citadel, begging for audience with Thursday and Arthur.

"My liege," he gasped the second he saw the Pipe and mask Arthur was holding.

"Uh, me?" the boy said. He was feeling incredibly useless. He hadn't done anything the entire battle except claim the Key- which he supposed was a major victory for him- and stop Dame Primus from murdering Dawn and Thursday in cold blood. It felt so insignificant compared to how Thursday had been managing the campaign, and how Dame Primus had taken out at least half the New Nithling army single-handedly. He was starting to feel more like a pawn than anybody's liege.

"Yes, sir," the New Nithling said. He looked handsome enough, and could have been mistaken for a Denizen, were it not for the way his limbs bent and contorted at odd angles, making him seem like some sort of arachnid.

"Um, okay. That's me. Listen, please accept our offer of peace. We don't want to fight any more. We're sick of it."

"So are we," the soldier replied. "We just wanted to be farmers."

Arthur broke into laughter at this. The soldier frowned, wondering if he should be offended, but Arthur couldn't help himself. It wasn't that he was meaning to make fun of their wants, but that he was struck by hysteria. _All this fighting, all this murder and killing to capture the Maze, and they just want to farm!_

"Sorry," he apologized, wiping away a tear that had sprung at the corner of his eye. "The Maze has, as I understand, many abandoned tiles and villages that serve no purpose other than to serve the Campaigns. You are welcome to stay in any and all."

"Indeed," agreed Thursday. Now that Arthur had healed him, he seemed far more peaceable than usual. "In fact, this may prove interesting in the next Campaigns. We have never had to defend civilian populations before."

"If there will be more Campaigns," Arthur said.

Dawn and Thursday looked as if he'd just told them he was cancelling Christmas, which was strange because, as far as he could tell, neither one of them enjoyed fighting. They just did it because that's what they knew to do- it was their nature.

"Well, there's no point!" he continued. "Shouldn't the Army defend the House instead of just randomly fighting Campaigns for sport?"

"They're not sport, they're training," Thursday protested. "We defend the House via the Four Gates."

"But there are other areas that need defense, tons of breaches into the Void where Nithlings emerge," Arthur pointed out. "What if we spared just some soldiers to guard those areas, and consider expanding the military so that we'd have outposts in all of the House…?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Dame Primus snapped. "Soldiers outside the Maze?"

"I think it's brilliant," said the New Nithiling, and Dawn and Thursday nodded their consent.

"The rest of the House won't agree," she said, "especially now that Arthur controls the Army."

"The rest of the House will soon be Arthur's anyway," Thursday said, "if he continues at this rate." If he harbored any resentment towards Arthur gaining his Key to "save his troops" even though Arthur hadn't done any actual saving, he didn't show it.

Arthur sat down and sighed, the Fourth Key he held in his hand lengthening into the form of an ivory marshall's baton. It didn't really suit him, but it was the form it seemed to prefer. Of Four, there was no sign, so Arthur presumed it'd finished 'assimilating.' Which was a shame, because he didn't like what little of it he had seen so far.

"We will see," Dame Primus said. It seemed to be her new mantra. "Very well, Arthur. I see you have things under control. Now, I haven't had time to control the Border Sea, but I hope the filling in of the Pit is continuing as planned. This means that you must go straight to the Sea right away and-"

"You do it," he said. "I'm still being human. I need to check up on my home and make sure my family's all right. I need to see if the Spirit Eater's been destroyed, because if it isn't…"

He pulled out the blackmail letter and showed it to her. He'd kept it not because he was going to give in to Saturday, but as a last resort. Was he willing to subjugate the House to more mismanagement and tyranny at the hands of the Morrow Days for his family and a mortal life if he had no other choice?

Yes, he would.

Did that mean he was selfish? It made him feel that way, but he knew that he'd still do it anyway. Only if there was no other choice. Only then.

Dame Primus read it quickly. "Of course she'd tell you that you have no idea what you're dealing with," she sniffed. "Typical. She must have lost her touch. The last blackmail I saw was far more convincing."

"What was the last one you saw?" he asked.

"The one that broke me apart," she answered, but gave no further explanation.

"We need to decide on a plan of attack for taking on Lady Friday," Thursday said. "I could aide you with that."

"You would do that?" Arthur said, incredulous.

"Of course. I am at your service, sir." He said it easily, as if Arthur hadn't been under him just a few short hours ago. "I think you will find I have some... insider's information. Lady Friday and I have been…" He glanced at Dawn. "…close over the years."

"Very close," Dawn snorted, and crossed her arms.

"How 'close' is 'close,' exactly?" asked the New Nithling soldier.

Thursday reddened, and Dawn scowled.

"Very close," Arthur concluded.

* * *

"The Great Maze has not fallen, but is the property of the Rightful Heir."

"Either way it is one step closer to dissolution."

"Yes, it is." A pause. "Are you not worried?"

"Not at all. Why do you insist on calling me? I have better things to do than listen to your blather."

"My apologies. I ask again, may I please-"

"Do as you wish. It is no concern of mine." There was a click, and she knew he'd hung up.

The woman sighed and hung her own phone up, then glanced back at her desk. So much work to do, so much scheming to attend to, and so many plans to be carried out. All in a day's work. Or a century's. Or even a millennium. Time was nearly irrelevant to her.

She picked up her pen, a quill with a beautiful shining nib. The quill was the same luxurious blue as her eyes, providing a strange similarity. She scribbled something on a piece of parchment and placed it into a tube, then massaged her temples and glanced into the mirror. The worn expression that looked back was not at all to her liking. Then she looked slightly to the left, at a painting taken ages ago, before the Breaking of the Will. She, like nearly everyone else, had noticed that her eyes were lighter then, a different shade. Now they resembled the Key too much to be coincidence.

With a scowl, she turned back to her desk and picked up a leather-bound tome, flipping it open to a page with the current date on it. She watched as lines of writing wrote themselves out without her having to draw them. She read what was written for several minutes before sighing once more, shutting the book so that it was closed, and placing it on her desk. She waved her hand, and another phone appeared in it.

"Yes, operator," she said. "Get me the former Sir Thursday. I'd like to have a word."

There was silence save the pitter-patter of rain, and then a nasal voice whined, "Putting you through, ma'am."

She said nothing, but pursed her lips and gazed out the window as the dial tone filled her office. The rain was of a softer sheen today, but other than the color, there was no difference in it. The rain was very regular and always uniform.

She hated that.

The dial continued, and at last she heard someone say, "Hello?"

"Hello, Thursday," she greeted, though not warmly. It was an icy, cold greeting, as chilling as downpours of freezing deluge, torrents of rain. She stood, the phone somehow following her as she moved to another room where she could speak confidentially.

She left the book behind, whether on accident or simply having no more need of it. Its gleaming cover reflected the glow of the office, light bouncing off its gilded letters.

_A Record of a Mortal, _the title read. Underneath, a soft subtitle added, **_Arthur Penhaligon, Possible Delegate of a Rightful Heir_**_._

* * *

**A/N: So there it was. I don't really like this chapter, mainly because I felt the Piper's death wasn't good enough, and that Arthur didn't really do anything in the chapter. Oh well. He'll do more stuff in the next one.**

**Thanks to all the reviewers so far: LostPipersChild, DarkPaladin000, and Human Barricade. A special thank-you to Human Barricade, who helped with some of the interactions this chapter and future Dawn, Primus, and Thursday conversations.**

**Until next time!~**

**Dragonlord Stephi**


End file.
